“She didn’t bark at you!” Her shriveled face beams at me as she points to the 3-legged cancer dog squatting on the dead lawn. And, she’s right. Usually, the decrepit dog barks and barks and barks as I walk up 32nd Street on my morning walk. But today, she doesn’t. It’s a miracle!
“Things are
getting better!” Shriveled Woman calls out to me as I march past.
“Yes!” I
agree, but actually, I think the dog was just distracted by the cat, Smokey,
that I’d been petting. Smokey is a
handsome devil. Gray and sleek with a dazzling purrsonality. I’d been petting
him when a car pulled up into the driveway in front of me. I tall, middled
aged white guy emerged, “Hey, Smokey! C’mere!”
“Is he your
cat?” I’d asked.
He shook
his head; I could feel the disdain oozing off of him. “No, he’s everyone’s cat!”
“Ah, he’s
his own man!”
“Yes, exactly…..Smokey, c’mere!” he commanded, acting like Smokey was his cat. Yet, Smoky began a slow saunter toward him, then sat down and started to lick his butt, proving once and for all that he was indeed his own man.
As I
continue up the street, leaving the neighbors to continue the pet party, I
wonder to myself if Shriveled Woman might, in fact, be right. That everything
was getting better!
Such as?
For one—my
sleep! This entire week the heinous insomnia had not attacked. And without this
chronic sleep deprivation, I felt so much better! I had energy to go on these morning
walks without dragging myself out of the house; I had energy to swim without
feeling like my limbs were tree trunks; I had energy to write stories and proof
my novel and answer email and work with students and play the piano and read,
read read! So, yes, things were much better this week because of being able to
sleep.
What could
be better than this?
The weather! The sun came out today. And the wind has died down. This is better! After all, it is summer! In the past, I always believed that summer was the pinnacle of all the other seasons. Part of me still feels this way. I like being warm! But now, with climate change, the summers are tinged with a darker energy. Wildfires. Drought. And the anxiety that comes with these summertime ills. I don’t feel as buoyant in the summer as I used to. However, today, since it’s been so foggy, windy, and cold for weeks, the sun’s warm and the mild temperatures do seem better!
Finally, what could be better than going for a walk without dogs barking at you? I get so tired of jumping out of my skin when a nasty cascade of barking startles me from behind a fence. I know where all these potential bark hazards are on my neighborhood walk, and I give these fences a wide berth. But today as I walk past the usual bark-a-thon at the corner of Downer and 28th Street, no barking! What? Do I have on an anti-barking cloaking device today? These dogs always snarl and bark at me in a most dastardly way, their big wet black noses and sharp teeth digging under the fence as they voice their intent to eat me. And, while I usually walk across the street, today it was so lovely to just walk by and smell the sweet flowers of the lemon tree blooming outside their fence, without their usual menace.
I come up
to my final turn at 32nd Street. Here’s the last test. Will these
dogs bark?
“WOOOOFFF
WOOOOFFF GGRRRRRROOOOWLLL!” And then a woman’s voice: “NO! Stop it. That is our neighbor. She’s nice!”
I can’t
help but laugh. The anti-barking cloak isn’t foolproof.
As I hurry
past this last dog hurdle, stepping down my street, I hear Murry, my effervescent
mockingbird singing to me.
He doesn’t
stop as I put the key in the front door, pausing for a moment to gaze up to the
telephone pole where he’s perched. Yup, he’s right. Time for a song. Always! Things
are getting better!
Songs Universal
ReplyDeleteOf the Mockingbird
Without end, he sings songs
Conscripted from his fellow travelers
In his world of endless capture
Of attention of other minds
Not only for his kind
He sings for me, you, and
The Heavens above in his
Sun place atop the
Honeysuckle bush glowing
Red and green giving refuge
To his nature and generations.
Would it not be something wondrous if we could learn from the model that the Mockingbird gives to us. To learn the good morning song of other Peoples of other Lands. Would it not make us more empathetic if we could have an opening greeting, courteous language intercourse, and an appropriate good bye, god speed to others? The Mocking bird speaks and sings more than 400 hundred different songs…could we not learn at least 10?
“Long before the Europeans came to this continent, the mockingbird's song captured the attention of native Indians, who believed the creature was ridiculing other birds in the forest. One tribe of Algonquins called it Cencontlatolly, or "400 tongues." The Biloxi Indians believed it "mocked one's words," while the Choctaws called it the bird "that speaks a foreign tongue." In Hopi myth, the mockingbird gave the tribe the gift of language.”
http://www.nwf.org/News-and-Magazines/National-Wildlife/Birds/Archives/1992/Listen-to-the-Mockingbird.aspx
Listen to the Mockingbird…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pUxOaN_rec
Ruthie
This was published on my family blog in 2014 before Daddy died