Zippy doesn’t know he’s “missing” anything. To him, the world isn’t a place of limitations; it’s a series of smells to investigate and floors to conquer. Watching him navigate our home on three legs is a masterclass in raw resilience. He doesn’t ask for a handicap, he doesn’t wait for a smoother path, and he certainly doesn’t look for a handout. He just adjusts his center of gravity and keeps moving.

Most of us spend too much time looking in the rearview mirror. We mourn the parts of ourselves we’ve lost—the youth, the health, or the versions of our lives that didn’t pan out. We see subtractions where we should see opportunities for a new stance. Zippy doesn’t look in the mirror and see a missing limb. He sees a dog who can still beat me to the kitchen the second he hears a cheese wrapper.

Life has a way of taking things from us. Sometimes it’s a job, sometimes it’s a dream, and sometimes it’s just the peace we thought we’d earned. But the grit comes in what you do after the loss. You can sit on the porch and bark at the clouds, or you can find your balance and run. Zippy chose to run.

Next time you feel like you’re coming up short, think about the dog who doesn’t care about the math of his legs. He only cares about the finish line. We’re all leaning a little bit—some of us just hide it better than others. The goal isn’t to be whole by the world’s standards; it’s to be faithful with what you have left.