So this morning, I did a long run in the soupy heat, and straight afterwards I changed from my sweat-soaked running gear into a regular cotton tee shirt and shorts, and took the dogs down to the lake.

Yesterday, we'd had a tragedy: Soleil's ball (they each have their own generic orange rubber ball, and they are very particular about whose is whose) finally succumbed to its injuries (it had been chewed on and punctured and torn in several places) and it sunk. This confounded both Labradors, who knew it had gone into the lake and were determined to find it, swimming in tight, frantic circles together, creating their very own whirlpool, deaf to any and all shouted commands to get back ashore. I finally distracted them by throwing stones to create a diversion.

So today, we tried to introduce a new ball into the mix. And the Labradors weren't having it. They stood, shoulder-deep in the water, and watched it bob its way out into the lake. No encouragement, no exhortation, no cries of exasperation (I might have called them morons) would convince them to retrieve it. So I thought what the hell; I was hot and sweaty from my run, so I just dove in, fully clothed, and swam out there. I wish I'd had my camera to capture the looks on their faces as these two water dogs watched their human fetch the ball for them. They even swam out to escort me in, such was their concern. But as for that ball, Nyuh-uh!!!

How many times have I watched you go by,

From my kitchen window?

A man and his dog,

Out for a walk,

A common vignette,

A daily ritual,

Multiplied over the years.

Some days, he’d prance beside you,

Whirling in excitement,

Pulling on his lead,

A blur of rust and black and white.

How does something that big

Cavort?

In the winter,

You’d stop and pinch off the balls of frozen snow

That clung to the pads of his paws.

In the summer,

You’d take him down to the point,

And let him gambol in the lake.

For a big, furry beast,

He was a passionate swimmer.

If dogs could smile,

He did.

I watched you go by

This morning, from my kitchen window.

He limped along slowly, tiredly,

And you slowed your pace,

And seemed every bit as broken.

Tears welled in my eyes

As I understood

This was the last time

I’d watch you go by

From my kitchen window.