Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The Dock and the Millpond

This is a post that I originally wrote on Saturday June 4, when I had no internet.  On our drive to the Poconos, we were listening to a book on tape:  Ian Flemming's Moonraker (a James Bond story).  I think it significantly influenced my writing style, but I figured it's good to switch things up from time to time!

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We arrived in the late afternoon but in the few hours of evening there were already signs of Jonah's improved confidence.  While the last time we were here he never stepped onto the docks by himself, today Jonah trotted carelessly down the dock steps, passed us, and jogged down the length of the dock.  Once he has satisfactorily surveyed the area, he began to start looking down over the edge of the dock and into the water.  I turned to Dave and asked, "How long do you think it will take him to jump in?"  Dave laughed, paused for a moment and replied, "I bet he'll be in by Tuesday."

Before it got dark we decided to go over to the millpond across the street.  It's always very quiet there, and there is a lovely, grassy path to the dam.  The path is probably about three quarters of a mile, so not far, but enough distance that you feel like you've at least accomplished a little bit of something.  We crossed the street, walked about fifty yards around the bend so we were out of view of the street and the potentially fascinating vehicles that might stream by at any moment, unhooked Jonah's leash, and we all started for a run down the trail.  Jonah, of course, exploded down the path while we took a more businesslike pace, but we all at least headed off in the same direction.

Dave and I chatted some and spent some of the time enjoying our quiet surroundings as our footfalls grew synchronized and we settled into our respective wheel ruts that had probably not been rolled over with any wheels for weeks if not months.  The trail clearly had not been mowed this spring and the grasses had begun to bend with their own weight.  It was a perfect haven for hundreds of ticks, a fair number of which decided to hitch rides along with us.

Meanwhile, Jonah grinned merrily as he darted this way and that.  He would race ahead of us, disappear momentarily, and then come running back towards us to remind us that we clearly could not keep up a suitable pace.  Inside, thought, he was pleased that he had enough time to take small detours to pounce on a squeaking chipmunk at the side of the trail, spend a few moments thoroughly interpreting numerous fascinating sniffs, and still maintaining a clear lead ahead of his people.  Not a bad life.

Upon reaching the dam, we all slowed to admire the pond.  There is a small, two-board bridge out to the dam.  Dave and I crossed it, and before we knew it we heard a loud splash.  There was Jonah, amidst a cloud of slimy pond vegetation, looking half shocked by the fact that the water had the nerve to splash back into his face when he leapt on it, and half thoroughly pleased with himself that he had conquered it.  Dave and I were similarly split between shocked laughter and impressed parental pride.  The bridge was a good two feet up from the water--much higher than the dock was from the lake back at the house. Of course, here Jonah could stand, but he did also venture out far enough to take a token swimming loop before emerging like a shrunken, furless cat, shaking vigorously so that he appeared to have been electrocuted, running wildly about, and finally coming back to us for leaping, soaking hugs.

After all that excitement, it was time to head back.  Pushing into our steady running pace, Dave and I enjoyed our own meditative footfalls while being constantly entertained by the notably less consistent but assuredly higher-calorie-burning tracks of our slimy, stinky but exuberantly happy canine companion.  His skunk odor always comes out more when he's wet, so add the skunk to the muddy pond scum and your everyday wet dog goodness and you've got some fine doggy scent going on.  But we were all content as could be.  When the sound of car traffic came back into earshot, we slowed to a walk, clipped the leash back onto Jonah's collar, turned to each other and said, "Let's do this every day."

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