Saturday, February 16, 2008

Destination

Sometimes Duncan knows where we're going. I have leashed him up and from the second the door opens he has a purpose, a destination in mind. Last Fall he dragged me out the door, across the street and around the lake to a specific flower, which he presented as though he'd grown and tended to it himself. He has led me the top of Rebel Hill to witness pink and gold sunsets, streaked with clouds, where warm and cool breezes have ruffled the long hair at his chest. He has shown me things with such urgency that I often marvel at his knowing.

Tonight, as the sun was dipping low behind the mountains and the temperature was beginning to drop, he pulled me across the park–stirring up vast numbers of geese in the process–as though he'd gotten online and discovered some new and wonderful location that had to be shared immediately. On the far side of the park, above Columbine he took a sharp left, pulling me across the parking lot toward the batting cage and up a narrow trail wedged between two baseball diamonds. There was such insistence that even though I needed to return home to call my friend Lisa to plan our night out together, I allowed him to lead the way. We stepped through the mud, slipped on the water which was just beginning to thicken up into a nice smooth surface of ice and stepped around dark puddles. He leaned forward, the leash tight and it was all I could do to keep up with him. At the top of the hill he turned right, not even sniffing the edges of the sidewalk. His eyes were focused straight ahead and I trusted him to take me to the place he had in mind.

When we came to a dead end between two sheds he looked up at me, a blank expression on his face. This was it: a barren, slightly muddy strip of sidewalk on the backside of the high school where kids probably sneak away to smoke cigarettes.

Yes indeed; sometimes he does know. And sometimes he just doesn't. I smiled as he sniffed around, no shame on his face, perhaps only some minor confused creases in his eyebrows. I patted his head and said, "Come on, Roo, take me home." And he did without hesitation because that destination was just as good as any.

3 comments:

NodakJack said...

Someday I'll tell you about MY experience with THE DOGS OF YELAPA. They know where they're going, but noone knows where they come from.

Lisa said...

You did it! I am so impressed you posted after we closed the Bistro.

Thanks for a wonderful evening...it's so good to laugh with like minds.

And especially thank you for introducing me to Duncan. He is even more marvelous in person than I expected. His doggie treats are pretty tasty, too.

PawHealer said...

awww...I love your blog.....and the Header is really nice.