Teddy’s Adventure in the Big Empty

“It’s my turn, right, Martha? My turn?”

“Yes Teddy.”

“Are we going now? How about now? Now? I’m going to run out to the back yard just in case we’re going out the back gate, OK Martha? I’m here at the back door? Can you see me? What’re you doing?”

“Putting my wallet in my pocket.”

“That means we’re going, right? It’s going to be great.”

“C’mon, Teddy.”

Teddy sits by the front door for me to put on his halter. Out the front door (Bear is secured in the back yard), down the alley and soon we’re at Bella. Teddy jumps up in the front seat like the king of car rides. I fasten his seat belt. As we drive around the corner of the alley, the kids run to the fence,

“Where you going?”

“I’m going to go walk this guy. We’re going out to the refuge where there are no dogs and no people. What are you doing?”

“We’re cleaning the garage because they’re bringing 36 boards!!!”

“I know! That’s awesome.”

“I wish I could pet Teddy,” says the little girl.

“Me too. Soon I hope. Well, we gotta’ go.” Teddy waves (I help). We drive past the abandoned high school and I feel a fleeting sense of nostalgia for normal April dog walks. I listen to the Allman Bros on the radio and we reach the Refuge.

“C’mon, T. Let’s go.”

“Martha, I need to poop somewhere around here where it smells right.”

“I know, little guy, I have a poop bag.”

“This looks good.”

“OK.”

“Why are we going back?”

“I don’t want to carry this. I’m going to go throw it in the dumpster.”

“Lots of good smells here, Martha.”

“I bet.” I yank him away from the dumpster.

“I think those geese are in the wrong place.”

“No, they’re in the right place.”

“I don’t think so, Martha. I need to move them somewhere else.”

“They’re moving on their own, Teddy. You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not so sure. They look like they need help knowing where to go and they need to hurry. They’re just waddling off there.”

“They’re geese Teddy. That’s how they walk. Be a little kind, dude.”

“OOOOOhhh! There’s that birdsong.”

“I love that you hear it, Teddy.”

“Hey! There’s a truck that’s not supposed to be there! There are people! They want to meet me!”

“No they don’t, Teddy, well, they might want to, but not today. Besides, they’re walking on that little trail. I wonder if it’s still flooded?”

“I have no idea what you said. Look, it’s two ladies and they don’t have a dog of their own. They want to pet me.”

“C’mon Teddy. My foot hurts. I don’t think these are such great shoes after all. OK, up up, Teddy.”

Puddles of little black cows in the distance. Fresh snow on the mountains all around me. Airbrushed clouds. Red-winged blackbirds in the willows.

“That was fun Martha. I love it when you sing.”

“Thanks, Teddy,” I say, looking into his little, adoring face. “You’re the only one.”