When I hit the water this morning the triathletes are already out and pumping tires and discussing route maps for their ride. Not that I have slept late. Awake on and off since before six, my dog has been the focus of my attention this week. A twelve and a half pound nine year old shih tzu, a rescue with an unknown history, that doesn’t like being left alone. She has renewed her dislike for alone time since my return from a four week absence.
My trialathon starts when I shut the door and the barking begins. It’s not that the neighbors complain. No one complains. It’s about caring about the little white and grey face in the window as I drive off in my swimsuit.
The water absorbs my thoughts like a sponge. It has cooled over the past two days. The grey outpourings of overfull buckets from the sky. I am grateful. It cleanses me of all that has gone before and I find rhythm.
This morning the air is clear crystal. It rings with a brilliant shine that is only possible after the wrath of rain buckets from heaven. The blue is full of wealth like paint layered over and over until it is a thick opacity. I am swimming in it. It is only the blue of the sky that is unattainable. It fades out of reach as I stretch up into it. It stretches up a bright and wide smile arching over all.
The little face in the window moves about. I know this as I am taping her while I am out. She barks and it hurts my ears when I return home to listen for the forty five minutes before the tape shuts off, to the barking and the distress of her whining. I talk to my downstairs neighbor. She has a little girl, eighteen months old and although we bring up different species, we discuss behavior and how to shape it.
I want a happy dog. She wants a happy child. And we both struggle with “how”.