The Good, the Bad and the Barky

 Every morning (and afternoon) I walk my trusty pooch, Cooper. Living in the woods, she can run without a leash, though I have to keep my eye on her. She does like to follow a hunch every now and then. My husband, Lance, and I used to walk the top of Charley Hill Rd. every morning, down to Rose and Keith's mailbox and back. He'd pull out their newspaper, check the weather report, and carefully put the paper back. At one of our Christmas tree trimming parties, Rose and Keith brought us a newspaper weather report on a hook as their contribution to the ornament collection. A decade later, I still love pulling that frayed and fragile weather report out as a reminder of the audacity of my husband and the humor of my friends.

I rarely take that whole route anymore and I miss it. Lance is no longer here (in physical form, anyway) and the folks who moved into a house along the way have a scary dog who is always chained up outside and gets very upset if we go by. I sometimes walk in that direction, but turn back way before their house.

Last Friday, I got up before it was light outside to hit an early yoga class. I headed in that direction and, as we got to the crest of the hill, here came the scary dog and its owner. (Much to my relief, she walks him on a leash.) Fortunately, I diverted Cooper's attention before she saw them by playfully running back to my house. It wasn't easy because inside I was grumbling and annoyed that this dog owner had ruined our walk. I reached my front yard and was greeted with a spectacular sunrise. Run-inside-the-house-and-get-the-camera worthy.

What a splendid and humbling reminder to trust that all is as it is supposed to be. Thank you, scary dog. If you hadn't come along, I would have missed it.