This day I am warned by the universe. It stops my tracks for seconds, minutes, and holds my breath for me. I watch him, the dog, dart into the brush covered slope, speeding upwards. It's that place where I know there is no calling him back now. The scent lies hot at his feet, his ears are deaf, he thrums only with the pull of whatever beastie propels him further away from me.
I wait. Once in a while I call. In vain I know.
There are times when he does this, in places where there is no neighbour. He may lose himself for a few minutes, and I don't fret. I know him now well enough to predict his return. His intentness on re-finding me again, once he realizes I am not with him. In those places I am not worried that he may fall into misadventure, it is all woods and trackless acres, full of wild fuzzy-tailed rodents. Elsewhere, where the boundaries are more finite, I have him under closer orders, a stick, a ball, a frequent close recall. A leash when I don't trust him. These are places where there are homes and people and things and delectable items that are assigned as property. Not squirrels now but stock, a hen, a duck. Things they might need or want to protect from this errant dog.
Today is the day before my birthday. I carry a three year old echo of worse times in my veins. Today that echo reached my gut, and a sense of foreboding wore away at me for those (too many) minutes before he emerged and sprinted down the beach towards me. Top speed and ignoring the dogs in his path as they joined his flat run for a few paces before giving up. Throwing himself into the sea when he reaches me, his left ear tipped almost imperceptibly with blood.
Do I trust this world not to rip my heart out yet again?
The truth is I don't, but even in my accumulating years I understand the pulse of life lies in the pure moments of the chase. When our hearts beat with an uncompromising truth. That to stay put and remain in the lee of this safe harbour is a good place to rest, but not one to remain in indefinitely.
