1.2.13    That Which Is Not Enough

     Silent, outside, while the old dog, missing her car trips due to such cold, takes stock of the smells of wildlife. Together we perilously venture along snowblower paths, the iced ground sleek beneath pad and foot alike.

     The moon, enormous, hovering just at treeline, as if perusing what earthly parts will be revealed next by its textural luminous light.

     We walk up to the hill, past the compost, she nuzzles the mosses, everpresent, she cocks her small head, wise sightless eyes upward, scenting the molecules from far up the mountain, from far below us in the ravines and swiftly, endlessly passing by upon the silent river below.

     We walk, but it does not satisfy, she smells and digs carefully with old clawed foot, but still it is not enough. Before we leave for work, and after going out, having a delectable breakfast, she stands in the kitchen, she comes upon us in the bathroom, she arrests us in the hallway, unmistakable her venture- to be brought out into the car, feel the sway and movement as it takes flight over familiar roads, to sense the direction and timing so familiar to her. To his office, to the store, to the river for a walk, to the parking place to wander down the favored sidewalk filled with wondrous smells and dog pee to pee upon in a great temerity of delicious dominance.

     But time and again, it does not happen, these wonderful daily events, as it is too cold to be an old dog, left in a car, for any length of time. So she stalks us, she questions, she is left wanting from our walks down the hill , by the range or around the petty walkways of our large land tract. I know.

     So I have promised her some drives, this weekend, simply for her benefit. Pack in the best sites. The parking/sidewalk/dog pee place, the ride to the University, and small walk-about, the saunter at my office to inspect all goings on and come upon the path of the young possum, venturing forth just last night, and possibly an errant and meaningless drive to a store, any store, maybe Dave's, where she can pee on the island outside, be pulled by all matts to avoid further 15 year old lady marking, smell about the treat aisle, and clamber back into the car with some irreplaceable but chewable thing to guard, avidly, from unseen felines, when we finally get home.