February 4th, 2019
I’m wearing my shin-high green rubber boots, with my fox-socks pulled up to my knees. My pant legs stuffed haphazardly into the remaining gap. We leash our pup, hop into the car and head to our evening destination without a second thought. We have 30 minutes before darkness arrives. It’s a mad dash to our chosen walk, but we make it just in time. It’s the first truly cold day in a month, and we both notice as the chill creeps along our spine, hovers inches above our goose-bumped arms and quickly sucks our breath away. We are bundled up against winter’s delayed arrival, but Ember our furred companion doesn’t mind. Nonetheless I’ve insisted he wear his red insulated layer- a bright beacon we’ve often appreciated with dwindling light. We walk side by side, unclip his leash, and urge him to “go for it”. It doesn’t take asking twice. He crouches low, and springs forward in a crazy propulsion- going so fast his ears are flailing against the velocity he is attaining. His back arching to the point that his rear end disappears beneath him- folded in a bundle. He’s part hound- that’s for sure. He runs to the end of the grassy strip, makes a 180 degree turn and somehow retaining the same speed (even while turning) zooms back towards us. He skids to a halt inches before our feet, nonchalantly sniffing towards the slough. His wet nose pointed upwards in the air, canine nostrils picking up on a wild whiff our human senses miss. The few ducks floating by don’t seem bothered by his invasive smelling, or our presence, as they leisurely pick their nesting sites for the night ahead. Listening quietly, we can hear their muted and gentle coo’s as they converse with one another, settling to their sleeping posts. The soft grating sounds of their bills moving side to side as they slowly relax, tucked into the recesses of the vegetation.
Ember darts ahead, while we grip the metal fence post and swing our weight around it, hovering for a moment above the muddy and crumbling earth to land safely on the other side. I drop with familiar ease, but with a clumsy skip my left sock creeps a few inches down my leg. Such is the pattern with old footwear. The evening beckons us, so we walk onwards. This is the first spot we brought our pup after adopting him almost 2 years back. If dogs could talk- or write for that matter- we’re sure he’d list this spot among his favorites. With each arrival he completely loses himself in utter and complete joy, brought on by the fascination of his off-leash frenzy. Like a tiny ignited firework he zips about, disappearing between the giant stalks of dried grass. The only clue he’s there is the gentle rustle of the upper seeded-stem, as he ricochets in ping-pong fashion against the bundles, weaving his way through old deer-trails. His movements almost indistinguishable against the light breeze blowing in. We follow after him trying to keep up, laughing together at the happiness this experience has brought our dog. He leaps up and over invisible barriers, only his head is discernable as he bounces on the springy layers of winter debris. He circles back every so often to check on us, making sure his humans are still nearby. Then off he goes- back to his antics of full-fledged grass-immersion.
As I run after him my foot catches on a tangle of bramble, the thick Himalayan Blackberry vine wrapping around my boot. I push forward, but my left sock falls further down my leg- resting near my ankle. Not wanting to stop and adjust I press on. We soon come to a meadow where the vegetation has been flattened; trampled down by bedding deer, past fallen snow and large tree limbs. It is here that we look up to the open canopy above, to take in the sky and last light held by the gray clouds. The three of us cluster together and crane our heads up- to peer at the open expanse above us and to breathe in the crisp winter air. My gloved fingers begin to tingle and my ear tips are numb. The minor pain is worth this evening stroll, nothing to bother complaining about.
Without speaking we turn to head back-selecting a different random path than the one we took coming in. Ember continues to run, though slightly less exuberant than before. He hugs the water’s edge, dipping down to sniff and harmlessly spy on unexpecting waterfowl. It’s almost completely dark by the time the car is in sight once more. At this point my left sock has completely slipped beneath my foot, bunched up like an abandoned article at the bottom of the bed. The right sock is following suit…..part of the sacrifice when clinging onto memories woven into fabric. A fresh excursion brought to an end- a happy calm comes over us as we venture home to a warm house.
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