It’s Coming

It snuck up on me. I had shoved my hopes and impatience so far down that I actually hadn’t recognized it for what it was.

It rained into the mid-afternoon, poured, deluged really to that point where you crank the wipers so high you worry they will fly off out of control. The rain eventually let up, to the joys of those preparing for the party, and the sun shone through while everyone was busy fussing and primping. This wedding would have sun shine, big clouds, and a strong breeze keeping the humidity at bay and the water on the lake softly rolling. My suit, the corona in my hand, and distraction of good company belied the underlying importance of the earlier storm and the reprieve it brought from the typical August hot & humid.

Bleary eyed and obligingly I woke to her soft whine. The old shorthair, still holding on despite the departure of her hearing and a few teeth, needed an early morning bathroom break. Standing there in the orange wash of the garage flood light with a liver pendulum in my hand I felt it. My fresh buzz cut heightened the sensation as the cool air put a grip around the back of my neck and a near shiver ran down my spine despite the long sleeve T I wore. Still hazy, I half recognized it & half brushed it off.

The old girl must have sounded the alarm to her comrades, I returned to a bedroom very awake save my Wife. Stepping out for their morning routine, a bit earlier than normal for a post-wedding Sunday morning, I found myself thinking of standing at the tailgate feeling that same chill and knowing that 5 minutes of weaving in and out of high stem density will have me enveloped in warmth quickly. While it only dropped to 60 degrees, it felt like the mid-40s. Who knows what the weather holds for the next few weeks, but I’m taking comfort in knowing I weathered the sticky parts, most of them anyway, where a short run has the dog panting hard and my shirt drenched in sweat. The first cold front came through. And with it came the flood of excitements, anticipation, and the motivation to start the preparation. It’ll be here before we know it.

It’s coming.

Rooster Dog

Her eyes grow wide, peering up at me from her half-cocked head, tense. Coiled spring. Front paws splayed out in front with hind legs quivering.

Ready to bolt.

She landed this way after attempting to jump on the bed, inadvertently landing on the queen bee of the pack, the 12 year old shorthair with personal space issues. A move that does not come without consequences.

So much for a few more minutes of faux-sleep. I’m out of bed now and here she is staring at me like a rattler on the verge.

I give her a nonchalant “let’s go”. Bad idea, the spring unloads.

Rocketing out the bedroom, legs spinning tires in a drag race struggling for traction, into the next, up and off the back of the couch, bouncing back to the floor and hurtling into the bedroom again, up on the bed, and now she’s fixed back into her tight coil. Barking at me to boot.

Good morning to you, too.