Poo?

I walk in my room and immediately think, oh no, Orion poo'd. Not my idea of fun after a nice evening out. (btw I'm writing this without my glasses on).  I turn on the light. I look in the crate. No poo. I look on the side of the crate. No poo. I look under the bear in the crate. No poo. I look under the towel in the crate. No poo. I grab a bottle of fabreeze while calling to my roommate. "Hey will you come tell me if you think my room smells like poo?" Nicely she does, She sees no poo. "You should smell his butt." I just blast the fabreeze around. "You should put on your AC." "What I'll probably do is turn on my box fan. Actually what I'll probably do is just go to bed and hope my room doesn't smell like poo in the morning. If I'm being honest." She laughs and leaves. Orion's curled on the bed. I snuggle in next to him. I audibly hear him fart. I grab my face, it was right in the line of fire.
I found the source of the poo smell.

Sigh.

Yep, full of concern

I pour half the cup of food into his newly washed bowl that is propped on the upside down frying pan in the kitchen. He happily digs in as I turn to retrieve his treat ball--our normal food dispersion tool. I bend down, scooping it from the floor standing up abruptly, wherein, I crack my head so hard on the cabinetry above that I am instantly dropped to the floor, coffee mug of kibble fallen to the wayside. I'm curled, rocking back and forth on the kitchen floor, rubbing my head, cursing.
Orion contentedly continues eating his kibble.
Part of me wonders when my caring dog will come and comfort me with kisses as surely he'll notice something is wrong.
I'm still rocking.
He's still eating.
He moves on to the mug, shrew on the floor. huh, more kibble. how nice. I imagine him thinking. Myself, feeling the knob begin to form, wondering if my head it going to be tripped off for the month and we'll be back to crazy head.
Finally, as he finishes up that mug, he steps over my fallen form, and pokes my ear with his nose.
"Hey. What are you doing?"
I imagine him saying.
I stand up and get a frozen bag of veggies.

Sharon Woods Swim

"Amy remind me we are getting near the ducks in a few okay? That way I'm ready for it," I say as we are nearing the end of the loop around Sharon Woods.
"Sure. I swear last time I thought you knew!"
"No, I had a momentary brain fart."
We walk a few more steps.
"Maybe I'll undo myself from my belt leash that way I'm ready and won't be taking a morning dip myself in the event I can't hold him." I unhook the strap that I have looped around my waist. Orion's leash is now loose in my hands, without my body weight to secure us.
"Mol, we're getting near the ducks."
I brace. We keep walking. The flock of ducks are just lazily lounging on the edge of the pond. Orion starts to pull, he keeps pulling. I am holding on, my feet are moving quickly towards the water with no direction from me stating to do so. We're still moving. Amy reaches out her arm to try to hold me back. Still going.
"Orion, no!"
Still going.
I release the leash.
He flies into the water.
Ducks scatter like popped popcorn.
Quacks.
Feathers.
Splashing noises.
My dog is swimming right along with them.
The ladies behind us laugh.
"Hope you packed a towel!"
"Yes, he is a labrador, I am properly prepared..." I say, in humorous defeat.
"Orion! Come back here! TREAT!" I call after him.
He turns, hop swims through the green slim, climbs out with a big old smile on his face, pond scum still clinging to his nose. He shakes spraying water all around.
The ladies make a wide circle around us.
And we keep walking.
"Well, he is a retriever," I say.
Amy laughs, "Yup. Yup, he is."
Happy dog.

Reflections

Today I met with an old english teacher I had, back when I had stars in my eyes and felt the world would unroll the red carpet for my artistic self. I haven't seen her since I was probably nineteen. It was a crash course meeting. Starbucks on my lunch break, an exchange of art, sold on the Facebooks, discarded from my racks on my move east. This teacher, one who use to see my journals as a piece of art--"You should publish these.." and I'd cling to them, and shuffle along among the teenagers, plotting out my existence in the world.
"Catch me up to speed," she asks, big smile on her face, coffee resting on the table.
"I haven't liked my twenties," I tell her. "Started with 14 library cards, graduate school, dropping out, then a long stint of recovery from depression."
I explain in a slightly elongated version.
We talk about the pesky nature of life, depression, of being creative, clever, and how sometimes wouldn't it just be easier if we fit into the mold?
  And as the evening wears on and I read of my friend's best friend dog having passed away three months ago I think of this conversation and of my usual casual dismissal of my twenties.
  And I think of this yellow labrador curled at my legs, half chewed antler at his nose, shredded box around us mailed from my best friend in Oregon. I had a rough first half, but I got a dog out of the mix. A dog that has introduced me to my "old" hippie artist friend who teaches me to loosen up my edges, and her cranky Vietnam veteran husband who tells me crazy stories and makes me laugh at his absurd dislike for humans. Reminding me to not count myself out yet, I'm still a kid you know. And then there's my friend who listens for hours while I unfold my life mysteries, reminding me we will figure it out sometime, answering my 9-1-1 vet calls, and sharing her backyard so that a tall lengthy dog can dodge my yellow streak, as they race around colorful umbrellas and an above ground pool. There's the walks in the evening with my ten-year-old friend who reminds me things can be silly, my dog can be strong, and maybe we should just go make mini-pizza's instead? Saturday mornings around a lake with my dear friend from so many chapters of my path. And the old guy down the street who tells me never to get married, and hey, how are you doing these days?
  Sure there was a first run at the love thing, an incomplete degree, a slew of job rejections, a year of straightening myself back to good again, and two years of recovering from that, but really, there's two new friends I never wanted, an old friend who decided to forgive my younger self, a slew of pals who still hang out with me on this second Ohio round, a first apartment, visits to the first apartment from my dad, mom, sisters and Aunt and I have this side kick who I see each time I walk in the door. A sidekick who gets to cart along with me on my next great adventure, and remind me, hey, you have to lighten up some, and what about if we just go for a walk?

Mini Wines

"Orion! You almost pierced my nose with your big tooth," I say indigently, looking up at him. "Your tooth was up my nose." I rub my nose.
I giggle.
I have had one half of a mini wine. Then I switched to root beer.
"Would you like me better if my nose were pierced?" I ask.
"I decided I wanted my ear, but if that's what you're trying to tell me.." we freeze, as a noise occurs behind us. He looks at me.
I throw my arms up.
"Don't expect me to be any help," I say. "I don't know what it was but it's all you tonight. Save the household Balto!"
I roll over.