Coffee: Maxwell House Drip, Office Coffee
Most days, I go home on my lunch break. My apartment is only two miles from the bank. I make sandwiches or leftovers in the kitchen. Today, this is what I saw:
An old man walking his dog in the dog park.
Whenever I take my evening strolls around the complex, I pass this one apartment on the first floor that has a black fence around the patio. It’s a waist-high fence. The apartment is across from the pool.
On nice days, this burnt orange chow sits behind that fence. He never barks. Hardly looks at me. He’s used to people passing. And behind him, the deck door is always open. You can see inside the apartment. There’s movies on all the time. You can’t see what’s playing, though, because the TV’s facing the other way.
That’s where the old man and his dog live. I’ve seen the guy watching me when I walk by. Not in an off-put way, more curious. He and his dog have a lot in common. Before today, I’d never seen him out of his recliner.
I watched the pair walk around the dog park from my second-story window. I followed them for the whole time it took to microwave some slices of soy bacon. They padded and plodded. The dog didn’t run. The man didn’t either. When they left the fence, the chow walked alongside the guy without a leash. It got a little turned around where the sidewalk goes up a hill. The old man waited for his dog to catch up.
That was the nicest part of my day.
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Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami; FINISHED!
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A dog reflects the family life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerous people have dangerous ones.Arthur Conan Doyle, The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes