Friday, November 26, 2010

Walking pell-mell

I set up my blog site with the mission to laugh and entertain. Literally, it was designed for me to share my experiences learning, living, laughing, and loving life. But the other day I found myself wanting to rant and rave about an issue in our community and schools. I was ready to write an Op-Ed article stating my point of view. Luckily, my heart won out. In an attempt to keep my site lite I threw on warm winter clothes and huffed out the door with the dog on lease. What a great relief to be able to walk down country roads babbling in my head and occasionally out loud, so that before long my issues had been streamed away by the cool winter blasts.

Just like that my eyes were opened to adventure. Walking West down the dirt road I am always glancing for oncoming cars and trucks and birds of our prairie gracing the low skies. Lucy, our blue healer mix, runs pell-mell every which direction with her nose to the ground. I become her protector from traffic while she chases field mice, birds, cows, horses, and oh yes, dastardly squirrels.

At that moment two squirrels were seen in the distance hurrying and scurrying about the field. Lucy froze, which way to run. Both squirrels managed to deceive her when they ran in opposite directions and then back to the row of trees protecting them. Lucy's run was in vain, except for the blessing that it reminded me of on a summer day a few years ago when we both literally, came face to face with a daring squirrel.

Far down the dirt road away from the tree line we spotted a squirrel skittering around. As we walked closer I noticed the horses in the field were mesmerized by the critter making her way hither and yon on their grazing turf. As the horses closed in on two sides Lucy and I closed in leaving only high prairie grass for escape; the nearest telephone pole was a ways down the road. Just then the squirrel panicked. Her short attempts at escape from the chasing dog and formidable horses took her no where. Then suddenly she noticed two tan legs that must have looked like saplings. In an instance she was scrambling up my left leg.

My eyes met hers then a frightened scream and frantic leap erupted from my rigid body. The squirrel flew from my thigh to midair and down. In passing she took a swipe at Lucy's barking nose. With blood now trickling down my leg and dripping from the dog's nose, the distraction gave the squirrel a chance to run the fence line and up the nearest telephone pole.

From the top of the pole she had the nerve to chatter chatter spit on us as we limped by. By the time we wiped our bloody wounds with last year's Kleenex and walked on home, all signs and thoughts of frustrations and worldly issues were far from my mind. We both healed with only a few scratches to show of our encounter, but we did call Lucy "Scarface" from time to time. Luckily, adventures don't happen just once. They live on in our minds to rescue us from moments of thoughtlessness.