Kaya says ‘Blue makes me happy’ but I read it as ‘Blue Max Mr. Happy’. Kaya doesn’t know this but her daddy and I first hooked up at our college bar, Blue Max. And trust me when I say Bal was certainly Mr Happy…
Anyways, on to other things shall we.
Bal was away this week, back late last night. After 5 full-on days of single parenthood, I was in need of some alone time today. Quiet contemplation was in order so I took myself to the estuary, the only sound being windblown trees and chatty birds.
Being an overcast day, I didn’t set out to find blue.
Eventually I come to a place that seems to be the end of the trail. Only Riley, my dog (see her there?), ignores ‘seems to be’ and swims across the channel to carry on the trail I now glimpse on the other side. She keeps looking at me, taunting me, daring me to come with her and trust me when I tell you she conveys very clearly that this is not just a dare, this is a double-dog-dare.
Shimmying over this log and a couple near disasters later, challenge conquered too, thank you very much.
Which is when things go a bit dodge. It would seem most people do not have dogs double-dog-daring them so like sensible people, they turn back from whence they came. This trail on the other side is overgrown and my hands become bloody and scratched as I determinedly keep going. Then, out of the blue, (see what I did there with blue?!) my dog up ahead suddenly stops, like a cartoon-character-screeching-to-a-halt stops. Then runs behind me, refusing to go forward. At first I imagine there is a bear or cougar ahead and am fairly confident that as long as we make our presence known, we will be fine. Riley is not so sure. So I do what any good owner would do, I dare her to go ahead. No, I triple-dog-dare her!
That’s when I see a person up ahead. You’d think this would ease my fears, only instead it amps them up. For if you know my dog, she is a people person. She ignores dogs entirely but approaches any and all people that she can. She is not discerning either. Big, small, lover of dogs or hater of them, she will come up for a sniff and lick if you’re really lucky. So the fact that my dog is hiding behind my legs with this person up ahead is concerning to say the least.
My turn to screech to a stop while I ponder my next move. Head back whereby I have to shimmy that damn log again and walk the whole way back, or carry on the short distance to the train tracks I see ahead (and thus the trail head) but towards scary-cloaked-in-black-my-dog-wants-nothing-to-do-with-him dude?
Daughters, if you are reading this on some future day, do as I say, not as I do.
For I carry onward. But first I call Bal talking in exaggerated tones about my exact coordinates, ignoring his plea for me to head back. I’m
stupid stubborn like that.
Coming into a small clearing, I see scary dude has made his way onto the train tracks and fortunately is strolling down them in the opposite direction that I need to.
After an explicit agreement between dog and I that there will be no more dog-daring on future expeditions, we make it back safely home.
Now, totally out of the blue (hardy-har-har), another blue picture.