The old dog…
I see the old black dog walking with his old man on East-West Highway between Rosemary Hills Drive and 16th Street as I make my way home from work. It’s summer, and I’m riding with all the windows down sunbathing in the expansive windshield of my Intrepid with Paul Hardcastle thumping on the stereo. Life doesn’t get any better than this. I want this moment to last for eternity.
The old man walks as if time doesn’t exist for him. He slowly bends like an old man with the knees assuming the giraffe position and pick up something from the sidewalk. He eyes it closely and places it in his pants pocket, and he slowly stands up and makes his way up the hill searching the sidewalk as he moves along.
The old dog waits with the patience of Job, sometimes giving a halfway turn to see what his old man is picking up. Once the man straightens up, he moves – his tail is at half-mast doing a one-quarter wag.
I eagerly look for my friends each day knowing they will be in almost the same spot that I saw them the day before. It warms my heart to see them – it makes me feel better about living in this cruel world. As I drive away and lose sight of them in my rear view mirror, I experience a wave of anxiety. As I drive on, I say my little prayer, “let the dog die first.”
Today I saw the old man, and he walked alone. I felt a sense of relief as I lost sight of him in my rear view mirror. I wondered… I pray the old man time will not be long coming.
THE COWBOY IN SILVER SPRING, MD
I know a cowboy that doesn’t own a horse or ride a horse.
She drives a 2000 Dodge Intrepid up, down and around the winding Randolph Road.
I know a cowboy that don’t rope doggies on the plains.
She works for a small non profit oncology association as an administrative coordinator.
I know a cowboy that has never hit the dusty trails.
She frequently rides in bumper-to-bumper traffic to and from work
I know a cowboy that had never darkened the doors of a saloon or has never drinked a beer.
She bellies up to a meal of Stouffer’ microwavable meals for lunch and guzzles 3 diet pepsi a day, and usually dines out for dinner.
I know a cowboy that don’t own a pair of chaps.
But she makes jeans and slacks her daily outfit to the office.
I know a cowboy that lives with Fibromyalgia
But she rise and shine at the time of the cows going out to pasture.
I’m reminded of…A Time
A hot August afternoon riding with all the windows down in my car and Paul Hardcastle bass thumping in my head.
An old favorite song and the words came back to me once I started singing alone with the song.
