Dog like an angry fox at the bottom of a driveway. Possessive of its tarmac.
As I pass it watches me, positions itself as something much larger… I buy the ruse, walk faster.
And then another dog. Black and small and growly, companion to a small woman in black. She does not say hello, speaks only to the dog. Perhaps winter has been long and hard for her…
A teenaged lad approaches, staring at his hand. I veer out of his way.
And then a puddle in the shape of a hawk in flight.
Smell of cigarette smoke on the other side of a cedar hedge.
Third dog—a very young puppy, gambolling through the snow, followed by two gamboling young girls.
Things are getting better.
Also, the sun. Still high at 6:30 p.m.
Another puppy, a sand coloured one, unremarkable and content it seems.
And then, because there haven’t been enough dogs, a beautiful but seemingly unfriendly Lassie, walked by a chap in designated walking apparel and with his perky young daughter outfitted in pinks and purples. He reluctantly returns my hello with a lemon sucking face. (No disrespect to lemons.)
As I turn toward home, a dove. Creaky garden gate sound of its wings as it flies from tree to overhead wire, sits, watches in that non-judgmental dove-like way… and I wonder what the view is like from there.