As much as I dislike waking up for no apparent reason at four in the morning, there is something nice about pulling on some sweats and taking Duncan outside in the quiet dark, when the moon has neared the end of her slide across the sky and the sprinklers at the park are chick-a-chick-a-chicking across the grass. Dunc has that dazed look about him, like a child a parent must pull carefully off the couch and carry down the hall to bed, holding the small body carefully, arms and legs splayed akimbo, tiny head resting against a warm, familiar-smelling shoulder. He has an awake but still dreaming look, with tousled hair and bleary eyes. He is at his gentlest in the morning, and so gentle at 4:30 that for once he can't keep up with me as I lead him through the parking lot and across the street to enjoy the deep silence of Littleton in the early hours. And when I drop his leash and let him walk, he doesn't. He steps a few feet away and leans into his Little Job, body taut and tail straight out, his head craned forward and the light of the nearly full moon sparkling off the diamond water droplets that have moved from the blades of grass to collect on the tip of his nose. When he has finished he does not trot away but sidles up to me and runs his body across my calf, like a cat, then turns and looks back toward home, where the bed is cool with the blankets pulled back to reveal the sweet-smelling, fresh sheets. That's where he wants to be, curled up across Ken's pillow while he is in Michigan, and that's where I suppose I want to be too, although it would be nice to have Little Man here beside me, Duncan spread out between us, the cats perched all around. I have a feeling I wouldn't have been up if that were the case. But crossing the street again is nice for I can hear the soft patter of his feet on the cement, the gentle chink of his leash and collar, and I wonder if he will remember this moon in the morning or if he will think it was a dream of a late-night stroll, just the two of us and the heavy breathing sounds of nothing at all.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Littleton, 4:30
As much as I dislike waking up for no apparent reason at four in the morning, there is something nice about pulling on some sweats and taking Duncan outside in the quiet dark, when the moon has neared the end of her slide across the sky and the sprinklers at the park are chick-a-chick-a-chicking across the grass. Dunc has that dazed look about him, like a child a parent must pull carefully off the couch and carry down the hall to bed, holding the small body carefully, arms and legs splayed akimbo, tiny head resting against a warm, familiar-smelling shoulder. He has an awake but still dreaming look, with tousled hair and bleary eyes. He is at his gentlest in the morning, and so gentle at 4:30 that for once he can't keep up with me as I lead him through the parking lot and across the street to enjoy the deep silence of Littleton in the early hours. And when I drop his leash and let him walk, he doesn't. He steps a few feet away and leans into his Little Job, body taut and tail straight out, his head craned forward and the light of the nearly full moon sparkling off the diamond water droplets that have moved from the blades of grass to collect on the tip of his nose. When he has finished he does not trot away but sidles up to me and runs his body across my calf, like a cat, then turns and looks back toward home, where the bed is cool with the blankets pulled back to reveal the sweet-smelling, fresh sheets. That's where he wants to be, curled up across Ken's pillow while he is in Michigan, and that's where I suppose I want to be too, although it would be nice to have Little Man here beside me, Duncan spread out between us, the cats perched all around. I have a feeling I wouldn't have been up if that were the case. But crossing the street again is nice for I can hear the soft patter of his feet on the cement, the gentle chink of his leash and collar, and I wonder if he will remember this moon in the morning or if he will think it was a dream of a late-night stroll, just the two of us and the heavy breathing sounds of nothing at all.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
You have been nominated! Check it out.
I'm usually up around 4:30am, want me to take Dunc' for a walk when we come for our visit NEXT weekend?
We hail from Michigan! Kalamazoo! Where is Ken visiting? I so often thought how you would enjoy walking Duncan in Saugatuck, Fennville, South Haven.
I have returned from a trip to the ocean for a week - it would be easy to live there. It was gorgeous.
Wonderful to get caught up on your blog - what a beautiful morning! So relaxing...thanks!
D.I.F,.
Ken is a native Yooper so he's up in the Upper Peninsula visiting his family. I've been up there a couple of times with him and marvel at the country. Lake in the Clouds in one of my favorite places on the planet. I've only been to southern Michigan (can we call it Regular Michigan?) one or twice, and then only to the dunes on Lake Michigan, which aren't too far from Gary, Indiana (the saddest, ugliest place on the planet!). I'd really love to get higher. I hear the most wonderful things!
I'm glad you had a nice trip to the ocean, and more glad that you returned safely! Thanks for the kind words about the blog. It's good to have you here, too!
Thanks Curt! My grandfather built a house in Newberry. The U.P. is gorgeous. The "regular" Michigan is great too! I never "picture" the U.P. when I think Michigan.
We had a doe and fawn in our yard today, a three foot snake right before we left, and always turtles and bunnies. We had a coyote once and my husband didn't believe me until a neighbor told him too! (No more fox...surprise surprise!) The cool thing is that we live right in the city!
On another note...it is interesting to see how things in nature relate. We grilled out tonight and had I not seen a bird swoop and eat this nasty, floppy, aimless moth last year I would have squooshed him while we were on the patio. Now I look at them and think how beautiful...flying bird food! Any reason why I shouldn't squash Japanese beetles?! I squish any chance I get. We have noticed though that they leave the native plants alone and go for our "Eurasia" implants!
Post a Comment