Yesterday morning I was hosing down the front of the house, and the porch, walk, and driveway, getting the accumulated dust washed away. The dust is from the almond harvest, which begins in August and runs through October. The air is heavy with dust; hanging about fifty feet above the ground is a yellowish curtain that looks like smog, and coats your skin, throat, nose, screens, and everything else around.
Howie helped me with the hose. He bit the jet of water, leaped through it, barked loudly if the water wasn't spraying him. He dove for the jet, roaring a growl, danced when I made the water nip his toes.
I let him play until he started falling down; his hindquarters get tired long before his sense of fun does. After I dried him off (mostly), he plowed onto my new carpet and had a luxurious rub. The amount of exercise he got was sufficient to make him sleepy for the rest of the day.
In the evening, I rubbed along the sides of his spine with a massaging motion. He seemed surprised, and when I stopped, he backed up against my legs for more. How I wish I had thought of doing that before! I'll be glad to massage him again tonight -- anything I can do to alleviate his stiffness is wonderful.
He turned eleven last March. This poem is for him.
This
Dog Follows Me
This
dog follows me
perfectly
at heel
through
the whole house
kitchen
to bedroom
from
breakfast to bedtime
This
dog follows me
ears
interested
in
what I do
front
yard to back yard
gardening
to sweeping
This
dog follows me
with
his sharp focus
with
friendly smile
eager
for kisses
with
wide wags of his tail
Will
my dog follow
when
I leave this earth
will
my spirit
find
his doggy soul
on
life's new next address
This
dog follows me
as
I carry him
to
the next life
this
dog is my friend
pressed
against me in trust
This
dog follows me
his
mortal essence
recreated
if
I can only
believe
God loves me so
1 comment:
Aww! Sweet.
I like this picture. It made me want to dig my fingers into his thick fur and give him a good rub. So glad that you handled that for me.
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