Cash's Journey : Episode 7: The Army Crawl – Inch by Inch, Heart First

A Different Kind of Movement

Have you ever watched someone do an army crawl? Chest low to the ground, elbows doing all the work, legs dragging behind like forgotten luggage. It’s gritty, raw, and full of sheer determination—a move reserved for soldiers, survivalists… and now, my sweet boy, Cashie.

Except Cashie didn’t just army crawl—he embraced it, transforming a struggle into something bold and beautiful. He had mastered it in a way only he could, with grit, grace, and that spark of mischief that never left his eyes.

A Summer Surprise

It was a gorgeous summer day, the kind where the breeze carries the scent of apple blossoms and everything feels just a little lighter. I had laid Cashie outside under our beloved apple tree, his usual shaded retreat. Josie was nearby, lounging as usual, both of them soaking in the warmth and the quiet of the afternoon.

From my office window, I could see them—two peaceful pups enjoying a perfect day. I had grown more comfortable by then, more trusting in Cashie’s new rhythm, and for once, I wasn’t watching him like a hawk.

Then I glanced up…

Cashie was gone.

Heart-Stopping Moments

My stomach dropped. My thoughts raced. Coyotes? A fall? Had he gotten hurt?
Where was Josie?! Oh, there she was—cool as a cucumber under the trampoline, completely unbothered. That didn’t help.

I ran outside, my heart pounding in my chest, scanning every inch of our yard like I was in a full-blown crime thriller. I was calling his name, breath short, panic rising… until I saw him.

Tucked beside the deck, nestled in the flower beds, lying in the cool dirt like he’d just found paradise, was Cashie.

And oh, he looked so proud of himself.

Fifteen Feet of Pure Determination

Perched up on his elbows, tongue flopping out, eyes dancing with mischief—he had army-crawled fifteen feet to his new VIP lounge spot.

This little warrior, who technically couldn’t even use his back legs, had decided he wasn’t staying put. He had moved himself. With no help. No audience. Just that deep, quiet determination inside him that said, I’m not done yet.

I stood there in stunned silence, then burst into laughter. My heart melted into relief. And pride. And something I couldn’t even name.

I sat down under the apple tree, right where he started, grinning like a fool. And just as I settled in…

He started crawling toward me.

Crawling Toward Life Again

I wanted to leap up and help, but something told me not to. I cheered instead, my voice catching with emotion.
“Come on, buddy, you’ve got this!”

Cashie paused once to catch his breath—gave me that big, goofy grin I knew so well—and then kept going. Inch by inch, elbow by elbow, he pushed forward until he reached me.

And when he finally did, he collapsed with a proud sigh, his whole body radiating joy and effort and victory.

I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his shoulders gently, both of us nestled in the grass under our apple tree, the sun warming our skin and the breeze dancing through the leaves.

Cashie wasn’t just crawling to move.

He was crawling to live.

And I had never been more certain: my boy was still in there, fighting. And he wasn’t giving up anytime soon.