Spring-Dog
(Chronicles of Holly — End of Week Five)
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 22, 2014
Today, a breath of warmth and coolth wafted over our backyard.
A signal it was, a promise of, as we like to say, new beginnings.
It’s a contradiction, though, because, once there’s been a beginning, it’s the only one of its kind. Still, quibbling aside, it felt like a new beginning, a sense of green shoots of our dead selves pushing up anew through the ground,
Our memories being short-term, we welcome the first breath of Spring, as if we’ve known no other. Despite this, an ancestral memory stirs our blood, and our nostrils flare. If we had paws and a snout and a tail, we’d know what to do — we’d pad over to the back door, scratch eagerly, be let out and chase our tails and perhaps, a bird for the sheer joy of being alive on a spring day.
A dog is good for this.
A dog knows what to do. There are no agonies of indecision, no “Should I do this, or something else more mundane and tedious?”
So, this morning, I embraced my inner Dog and my real Pup, and we sallied forth into a cool, bright Spring day. Holly was happy, and her tail was a flag of pride and pleasure. Her snout took in everything. Her paws seemed to just lightly touch the earth — she seemed to be fashioned out of sky and air and rain-cloud. Her eyes were bright, and she grinned in her imp-like way. We walked to the park.
You can imagine the rest.
———————————– Another new Beginning ——————————–