Today, well, yesterday now, Sunday, we took the dogs for a long walk on the Stephenson Memorial Trail. As I have mentioned before, they get so excited that strange behavior is likely to ensue. Today I laughed most of the way from the house to the trail for Schuster, who else, started with a high-pitched aria that he developed and maintained from the four-way stop to the parking lot. There is no way to describe it, but it is funny. None of the other three can imitate it, though Simon tried for a bit, then gave up and barked at someone walking on the sidewalk.
Since it is probably two city blocks from our house to the trail, we could easily walk it, and I frequently, in better days, have done so. With four dogs, however, all four would constantly need to be on leads. Off lead at the sight of the first squirrel they would be gone. Then there is the waste removal aspect. What one might leave in the semi-wilderness, one may not leave in someone's front yard. At least one should not. We have taken all four on a city walk before and cleaning up after a large beagle is not an easy task, especially when one uses a cane and has a dachshund to control. Simon is good about waiting for these pauses, since he has caused enough of them when we travel alone. Still, even when one has picked it up, there is still the matter of carrying the matter. So, we ride two city blocks to the parking lot, and we ride two city blocks back, a much quieter ride, though Simon tends even then to bark at people on the sidewalk, people riding bicycles, other dogs, moving machines of any make and model, and so on. Of the four, Schuster is the most entertaining of the passengers, Simon, who sits on my lap going and coming, is potentially the most annoying, though I do get to kiss his head from time to time.
Schuster and Dexter ride in the back, Simon in front, and Frollie in the middle between the front and back. Usually she loses her balance at least once on the way down and twice on the way back, for Mary has a sharp turning technique. When Frollie slips she goes belly down on the plastic thingamajig that separates the two front seats. Her attempt at recovery is excruciating to watch, since she is flat on the divider scrambling for a foot-hold on a substance not meant to be stood on. (I know, I know. I am a rule-breaker too; I live on the edge). Her legs go every which way, and the moans and grunts she utters are heart-rendering. Nevertheless, she insists on riding there where she can see whatever my wife is about to hit.
Ah well, the pain in my neck is excruciating and I need to quit. But one more thing. At 7:37 p.m. last night now, the space station glided silently from north west to east south east over our world and was visible for 6 glorious minutes. Brighter than any star it moves across our sky. I had left Simon home but took his lead, the one for night which has two front lights and a red tail light. Since Mary was coming too, I decided to lie on my back in our neighbor's driveway to get a clear view of the entire sky. Mary was necessary to help me get up, and even then it was a close call. Frollie would have laughed to see me, cane in one hand, Mary on the other side and me floundering in the middle. As in "Pickles" today, Sunday, had anyone come by before Mary got there, he or she might have called for an ambulance. But the sky was clear and the space station glided over us, giving us a spectacular view. I wonder what there will be to see in a thousand years, if anything. After all, by the end of this century, we may have a colony on Mars, as exciting and scary a thought as that might be.
I like C. S. Lewis's idea that space is God's quarantine. The monsters are not "out there"; all the monsters in the universe are right here, and space is God's way of making certain we do not threaten or terrorize or destroy whatever is out there. That said, I cannot wait to see "Interstellar," November 7, I think. I love fantasy and science fiction.