Soon

I did make it out of the house today, briefly this morning with Duncan and only long enough to tend to business and to chase one nesting bunny out from beneath a short, red-leafed shrub, and then later, sadly without Duncan, on a visit to see my doctor, who, I'm convinced, is the most amazing doctor in the entire world. It was a three hour round trip and I came home with a bottle of horse pills to fight off the sinus and ear infections which have taken up residence inside my head (she actually gasped when she peered up my nose and in my ears, but then let me look into her ears with that pointy little instrument minutes later, so it's all good). It was a long day (my fever woke me at 4 AM and I've been awake ever since). I did manage to take Duncan out early this evening, bundled up in a hoodie to keep warm despite the near 90˚ temperature, to throw the ball up and down the yard and to sniff out even more bunnies. He's such a good hunter, crouching down low and moving with very slow and cautious steps, careful not to let his chain rattle, although he's terrible at spotting them. All it takes is a "Duncan, look," from me and he's peering up at the top of a tree, or somewhere in the sky, but never at the rabbit crouched five feet away. I kneel down next to him, grab his head and point it in the right direction and hold him until I feel his body tense, a sure sign that the target has been spotted and locked on. But if I don't do that he'll drag me under cars, over cars, and every possible place a rabbit won't roost. He's quite remarkable this way and sometimes I come home feeling like the Annie Sullivan of the Golden Retriever world. I've spent a lot more time today tossing his ball down the long hallway or from the couch into the dining room so he's not quite as annoyed with me as he has been the last few days, but tonight he stopped and stared a long time at the park while I shivered and imagined I could almost smell my trees wafting up from down by the lake.

"Soon," I tell him. But I'm also telling myself.