Thursday, September 25, 2008

Walking Trails at Dusk

Brown like the pebbles beneath him, the frog's eyes perch on the surface of the water. He hops, swimming to safety, bringing me back to the present. My mind had been elsewhere, sifting through the drudgery of the day. Foxy steps a giant Alaskan furry foot into the water, takes a drink, then stops to listen to Canada geese passing overhead. The sky is smeared orange; a hawk calls. The geese who remain squabble.

Dark silhouettes of trees stand against the pale sky as night falls. They leave speckled impressions on my eye lids. I close my eyes to see the colors transposed - now white trees reaching up to a black sky. Buildings mimic trees. We're all down here reaching up to Heaven.

Foxy walks slowly, sniffing along the trail for interesting scents and limping slightly. She is old and has run many miles in Alaska. Still, she loves to take her time while we walk trails at dusk. Her 13th birthday comes this winter. It's a good retirement life for her, and she deserves it.

We emerge from the woods, both standing on the hilltop overlooking the field. We stand together in silence. The wind blows & cicadas chatter. I duck into the trees to relieve myself. Foxy walks over to me, tail wagging, and when I'm done, pees over my spot. I ruffle her big, furry head.

"Don't pee on my pee! I'm alpha, Foxy!" I tease her.

I think about dogs and how I dread the inevitable day when I have to say good bye to Foxy. She is one-of-a-kind.

Love is letting go. Sometimes I think I've let go too much. I feel anchorless.

There isn't a soul around. The black figure of what I first think is a raccoon hobbles across the trail and up a tree. I look up as we pass, however, to see the face of a smoky gray cat staring down at me. I wonder how many pairs of eyes see us that we do not see.

1 comment:

  1. Cool entries! Did you ever read Never Cry Wolf, by Farley Mowat?


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