My dog the pacifist

     It’s a little hard to spot the change of seasons here in Florida.

The weather chugs along pretty consistently in the 70s one week, the low 80s the next, with the occasional stretch in January or February of 65ish degree temps.

     Except now more than flowers are blooming. Tiny geckos skitter across the sidewalk in greater numbers, we spotted a crop of baby gators in a stream, and we now have bunnies. Bunnies in the shrubbery, bunnies on the grass, bunnies hopping across our paths. This morning Mamie and I stepped out the front door, and while she sniffed for the perfect spot for a pee, a tiny rabbit sat no more than two feet away. Completely oblivious, the Great Hunter continued to sniff and the bunny continued to sit. We probably could have all stayed in position for another half hour if another resident with a real dog hadn’t come along.

     For a treat later in the morning, I took the Mamster to her favorite park, a long terrace flanked on either side by houses. We met two goofball beagle mixes, pulling their owner in either direction like some canine version of the ancient sport of drawing and quartering. A tiny white poodle went by, her owner pushing a dog carriage in the event it became exhausted from walking a distance the length of a city block. And we met Ghost, a stately and very affable white Golden retriever. He sat regally to the side, watching the foot and paw traffic, his big fluffy chest puffed out like a savannah lion’s.

 

 

 

   And, as though to underscore the fact that no, come the End of Days, we'd better not depend on her to drag home dinner, Mamie again stared vacantly into the distance, totally ignoring the wild life.