Freedom and the Gates
The heels of my flip-flops are softly keeping time at 4:30 a.m. on a moonlit morning. More softly, the clicking of her amber-colored claws, keeping pace alongside me, her fox-colored fur rubbing against the floral fabric hanging down to my ankle. We walk along, jarred momentarily by a sudden cat duel in the street, walking together towards the first light of day, the crazy echoes of a morning bird's first repetitive cry ricocheting between houses, pinging against glass. She sidles alongside me, needing this walk, needing to exorcise the dark confusion of 4:00 a.m., a half hour ago, when she lay on her side, kicking and snapping, her attention nowhere, with a strange scent emanating from some strange gland or another.
When it was over, and she was helped to her feet, she paced blindly, aimlessly, furiously, at times burying her slender snout into a burrow of clothes, or papers, or furniture angles. After carrying her downstairs amidst kicks and whimpers, she was hitched to her leash and brought outdoors, becoming silently focused on simply moving forward and staying by my side. We quietly click-clacked and flip-flopped along, alone together in the last breath of evening, shadows revealing their bare simplicity, the truth of everyday objects becoming harder, less mysterious, plain.
At 5:30 we could see the colors of the flowers, nothing hidden anymore, and she and I set foot back indoors, where she ate hungrily and took her medicine. Still she bumbled, the normal bumbling. I stopped her long enough to hold her, and kiss her, and call her Little Girl, and Bumblebee, and Honeybear. Then I left her to her circling, her countenance turned in as it usually is.
Yesterday at this same time she was circling wildly and joyfully at the end of a retractable leash, so in love with the broad, free movement, taken for awhile by the spirit and essence of being a dog, and of sensing the safety on the other end of the leash, a guide to rein her in before careening down a bank or off a wall. Pure joy, to the extent that we were both laughing, and feeling it was ok to be a part of this world, in spite of it.
When it was over, and she was helped to her feet, she paced blindly, aimlessly, furiously, at times burying her slender snout into a burrow of clothes, or papers, or furniture angles. After carrying her downstairs amidst kicks and whimpers, she was hitched to her leash and brought outdoors, becoming silently focused on simply moving forward and staying by my side. We quietly click-clacked and flip-flopped along, alone together in the last breath of evening, shadows revealing their bare simplicity, the truth of everyday objects becoming harder, less mysterious, plain.
At 5:30 we could see the colors of the flowers, nothing hidden anymore, and she and I set foot back indoors, where she ate hungrily and took her medicine. Still she bumbled, the normal bumbling. I stopped her long enough to hold her, and kiss her, and call her Little Girl, and Bumblebee, and Honeybear. Then I left her to her circling, her countenance turned in as it usually is.
Yesterday at this same time she was circling wildly and joyfully at the end of a retractable leash, so in love with the broad, free movement, taken for awhile by the spirit and essence of being a dog, and of sensing the safety on the other end of the leash, a guide to rein her in before careening down a bank or off a wall. Pure joy, to the extent that we were both laughing, and feeling it was ok to be a part of this world, in spite of it.
posted by Black Egg at 10:11 PM
6 Comments:
aaaaaaahhhhh... sounds nice. i'm sure the pooch was very happy about it too!
Was she having a seizure? Sounds just like what my parents' dog went through...a lot of times she would smell things...everything in the house...after. The vet said it was her way of reorienting herself to everything. The walk was probably wonderful for her. I was just trying to explain to my bf why dogs are so fantastic (he's a staunch cat-person) and your description is the perfect thing I was trying to say. That pure joy of life that dogs do so well. And their absolute love of their person.
She was having a seizure. She hadn't had one in over a month. It was the first time I had been there to witness it. It wasn't as scary as I thought it would be, but very strange, b/c it's like they're not really there anymore, and you wonder for a moment if they're going to come back from where they went. The re-orientation takes awhile, and since her sense of space/cognition is already messed up to begin with it takes even longer than if it was regular epilepsy. She stopped crying when I took her outside, so we stayed out for awhile.
But yes, the pure joy that radiates from a dog at play and peace. Dogs are certainly powerful beings.
the walk part is what i was refering to. i tend to focus on the good, not the obvious or bad... being outdoors with her is something that will allways bring her back to a place she will remember in her subconcious. ground her and make her feel secure with you.. you could dog sit for me anytime!
ERRR... "it grounds her and makes her feel secure with you."
Oh, I knew you were referring to that. I didn't mean to focus on the bad in writing this post, really despite the seizure we had kind of a good morning. Her pace and focus nowadays are so different from 6 months ago that I just tend to pay alot of attention to everything she does, and find most of it interesting in some way or another. I've done lots of dog-sitting in my day, I love it!
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