Monday, September 23, 2013

The Village and Home

It was a beautiful crisp day in October and I decided to stroll through the village with my Bassett Hound Nixon. As we ambled along the cobblestone street, we passed a number of little shops offering a variety of hand-made crafts or paintings by local artists.
Sprinkled in amongst the shops were people’s homes, most of them having been built in the 1700’s. They were old but they had character that was both warm and friendly. I had moved to the village a number of years before after I had accidentally taken a wrong turn one day and discovered its existence. The quaint atmosphere and the genuine friendliness of everyone bore its way into my heart and it has lived there ever since.
At the end of the street, we headed onto the path leading to the sandy beach. The fresh salt air filled my nostrils and I breathed in deeply. There is something about the ocean that is like nothing else in the world and I felt blessed to be enjoying it all. Casually sauntering along, Nixon all at once got excited and started pulling hard on the leash. At first, I didn’t see what had him all riled up but then I spotted a gosling up past the high tide mark just before the marsh grass. Closer inspection revealed it was gnawing on a piece of watermelon apparently dropped by one of the many people who visited the area.
Nixon pulled and pulled with all his might hoping to get free or close enough to get at the gosling but I held fast like an anchor. I kept moving forward but he kept tugging and struggling to get back to the bird. I had all I could do to keep my patience with him. Watching Nixon’s determination, I couldn’t help equating his actions to that of a psycho attempting desperately to break free from captivity.
He finally relinquished and the rest of the walk was relaxing and enjoyable. By the time we reached the point, it was late afternoon and we were just in time to witness one of the most colorful sunsets nature could provide. We remained until it was almost dark, and then headed for home.
Back on the street, I marveled as I always did at all the lights glimmering in the windows of all the buildings and I felt a true sense of belonging.
Knowing we were headed for home, Nixon settled into a leisurely walk and showed no signs of interest in anything. He knew once we reached home, he would be treated with a nice meal, a couple treats and a long nap on the shaggy rug in the living room while I dozed in my favorite chair.
  Chelle Munroe©
  September 23, 2013

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