She watches, porcelain-like still
Waiting for a sign of intention
I move slowly in morning daze
She, alert, springs toward the door.
In disappointment she sees me sink back
And resumes her vigil upon my slow awakening.
I stand, her ears rise, eager tail in motion
She is locked onto my movements
I fumble about gathering bits, keys and such
She rises, ready for anything, always dressed
Finally, the point of no return, I lift her collar
It slips effortlessly over her silken head.
We head out into the bright morning.
With a nimble hop she is in the car.
Up through winding lanes we head
Sending pheasants scurrying for the hedge.
Paradise Copse is where we stop
In minutes we are in a world of nature
Scented woods, bluebell lined
Birdsong, with wind in leaf continuo.
She is laughing with joy, no really, I’m sure
As she skips thru’ the brush kicking up leaves
Stops to locate me, a darting glance, then off
Nose to the ground intent on the scent.
A walker approaches, her hackles rise
She slows, lowers her head, a faint cry
Darting forward to meet a new friend
Circling etiquette ensues, formalities observed.
With a crouch and a skip they’re off for a run
How would be if we could play like this
They bound out of sight as I make small talk
On the wonder of dogs, and painful knees
They tumble back to hefty praise
With tongue lolling she sets off anew
Right in the moment, she canters on.
How I envy her present sense.
The car looms, our circuit complete
She could do this all day but I am done
Back down the hill, her head sticking out
Reveling in rushing air catching scents everywhere
Arriving home we observe the rituals
I clean her paws and check her over
A hearty breakfast for her, a cup of tea for me.
Then she falls asleep till a quarter to three.
Written by Francis de Aguilar©2014