After All That

Sometimes as Duncan and I make our way down The Run it feels as though we're our own parade, plodding as we do down the path, under the low boughs and the high grass that grows along the fence line, past an audience of cats and dogs and people standing on their patios or rushing out to meet us. I'd like to think it's me they like, or even the company of Roo, who's really mostly indifferent to other dogs, preferring the company of people instead, but the truth is, they're really mostly interested in the bag of treats I carry in my pocket.

This afternoon, after a day spent alternately caring for Ken, who hurt himself at work last night, and teleconferencing interviews for a position open at work, we ventured out. First there was Bandit, whose people I don't like, then came Jeffrey, who has spent a lot of time on his patio watching his two new cats discover the thickets and long grass while gazing up at the birds and squirrels in the crab trees that shade his apartment. He's a talkative fellow who's been quite upset since losing Mama Kitty, the feral cat he adopted last year, so we spent a great amount of time talking with him while Cleo, the little Bijon in the next building yapped at us to hurry her way. She was on her patio with Mark, her papa, Leilani, her mother, Mallory, her sister, and some kid I can only assume is Mallory's boyfriend. The assumption comes because he's young, tousle-headed and wears his jeans far too low. We visited while Pepper, the work dog in the next building howled for our attention. She was on her patio with Cindy, another talkative person but who's wonderful and is always good for some conspiracy theories. From there we ran into a kid scouring The Run for stray golf balls. A few weeks ago I'd given him the collection Duncan and I have been collecting for the past two years, nearly three hundred in total. We chatted for a bit until Roo pulled me into The Glen and then across the street to the park where we ran into Stoner Dave and his dogs, Spirit and Chance. He's in his fifties but looks far older, probably from the very thing that earned him the nickname I gave him a few years ago. After a walk around the park, past countless baseball and kickball players, through the Soccer Hoard and numerous others we returned home to find Jennifer, her daughter Jordan and a gathered throng of kids gathered around their new puppy, Jewels.

Finally, after all that, after all those people, we climbed the stairs and came into the apartment only to be told by Ken, who was lounging on the couch, that my fly was wide open and my shirt was hanging out of it.

It is a glamorous life I lead indeed.