I walk the streets, morning, noon and night, leash in one hand, blue "doggie bag" the other. Jake and I are quite a sight, as he's a handsome, gentle brute of a Golden Retriever with tawny mane and grey muzzle. We're twins for looks but, otherwise, his prancing about on all fours contrasts sharply with my making do on two. I may gambol but I do not prance.
We crossed the road to engage the apron that opens upon the long and sloping drive leading to Jake's MacMansion on the lake. I looked both ways - I always do - as two vulnerable necks were on the line. A silver SUV sailed on by. Jake, sinistral to me, and a looming black Beemer, dextral to me, halted at my command, mid-stride. How I clearly saw the silver beauty pass by from the left but not the black beast approach from the right still haunts me. There were no shadows playing upon the pavement. I instinctively threw up my right hand in a half-apologetic wave and greeting as I mouthed a contrite "sorry!" and made haste slowly to Jake's property.
A few days before I witnessed the slaughter of a deer at the same spot. The mind boggles at what damage an automobile can do at the posted twenty-five miles an hour.
CoCo Canine
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