Sepia

You always wanted me in your sight. Didn't have to be by your side. But in your sight. We'd run and play. You'd pause. Then I'd run or ride away, you'd bust into full stride. Running, running, running. Catch me. I see you, Dad. Stay right there. I see you. See me now, black dog, I'm right here.

They were all so nice, helpful. They all wanted to find you, they all wished they had seen you. It was warm, they were happy, willing. One hundred, two hundred. Many. Many eyes. I knew you weren't happy. I found a man, a man and a kid. They'd seen you, the night before. In their driveway. You wandered, they approached. You growled. They left you alone.

You're here somewhere, waiting for me. We will find you, I and my new band of friends. You will be home, home with me. You don't have to run to catch me. I'm right here. Always right here.

Crushed

No sleep with no dog, never again maybe, is no good. The light came, cloudy but okay. I ate, I think, have to eat. It was early, but not crazy early. I hit the trail, expecting to find my buddy among the quiet, sleeping, maybe down by the water. I knew she was gone now. I just wanted her to be sleeping, forever would probably be better by now.

The trail we walked hundreds of times was all mine now, solo. My eyes kept at the shore then all around. My voice joined in the hunt at times, my eyes carried the brunt of the burden. Up one way, back the other. I had last seen her above me, I was down taking out the dock for the season. She was above me. She'd be there when we were done, she was always there, her more worried about me vanishing than I of her.

It was quiet, dry leaves underfoot crushing. Me crushed. I had all day, this was the day. I knew something good would come of this. Not enough good, I knew, but good nonetheless.

Quickly, I was proved correct.

Tick Tock

The clock is at my parents'. I stayed there the first night, the night she went missing. You keep thinking she'd appear at the door, peering in as the thousand other times. I kept peeking, just light shining on empty space. I knew she was out there. Somewhere. I almost hoped she had passed away, I'd find her in the morning. Peaceful, though not me, she would've died alone, wondering if I would show up to help her. It's hard to find a black dog at night, in the woods, deaf to all but her own thoughts. I wonder what she thought.

I tried to sleep. I would get up first thing to search, to find her. I knew I would find her. Where I did not know, alive I did not think.

That clock, though.

It's a fake clock. Like a grandfather clock, it doesn't tick. I don't think. It chimes, a song. Ten seconds worth, every quarter hour. Everything else was silent, I wanted to hear my dog if she came home. All I heard was the clock. Every fifteen minutes. Dum, dum dum dum dum dum, dum, dum, dum dum dum dum dum, dum, dum-dum-dum-dum-dum. I tried to turn my mind off, didn't work. I tried to turn the clock off, didn't work. The only things I heard all night were things I didn't want to hear. Morning would come, right? I'd have the energy to find her, right? Maybe she'd be there in the morning, her bark snuffing the chimes.

Dreams

***Cold, wet nose.***

I haven't walked around the lake since she left. That same lake we'd walked a thousand times, where now I called and called for her, looked down on the banks wondering if I'd find her struggling. She wasn't talking to me, she'd talk to me. Must be asleep. Maybe forever. Outside. Alone.

She swam in that lake a lot. There's a canoe there, and when I'd get in it and row, her still on the dock, she'd talk and yell, wanting me to come back. Distraught. She'd dive in to come get me, swimming, swimming, swimming to catch me. I'd come back, never wanted to lose her in the lake.

Distraught, both her and I.  Rural darknerss, her ears deaf to my voice, my light only a spark. Forever at peace, possibly.

Back she will come. Strong, full of will, a little tired. Light will arrive, we'll get through the night.

Cursing the clock.

Sound Check

It's beautiful there, at my parents'. You're quickly in the middle of wilderness. Ignore the houses. There's lots of water, plenty of fantastic wetlands. It's been dry here the past few years. This place looks a lot better when there is lots of water. It's pretty.

There on cloudy days, at dusk, or when dark, my mind flashes back. Walking each road, looking for my friend. My older not entirely healthy friend. All that ends well isn't always well. A wicked car accident--though unhurt, still stained. I block it out, the flash. Eyes closed to those 24 hours, the constant calling out. No voice nor sight in return. It had always been so peaceful. Wilderness brings peace. Now eery silence.

Lost

***Bernie on the banks of the Mississippi, in Minneapolis***

We seemed to have skipped fall here, woke up yesterday to a dusting of snow, 30 degrees at the moment. Spent some time at my parents' yesterday, doing some yard work, had to wear long underwear, seems like it was yesterday, or maybe the day before, that I just put it away for the season. I'll still ride my bike to work some, my end of season in terms of that is when ice initiates its months-long presence. The Cardinals are done, and while postseason baseball on cool fall nights is one of my favorite sporting events of the year, in some manner it is now hockey season. Hockey is good.

On October 24 last year, it was 80+ degrees here in the Twin Cities. That day was also a lot of other things, as recounted in my January 8 entry and recounted often in my mind. The leaves of a difficult memory are sometimes stubborn to fall and blow away.

Busy Times

***Bernie says, "I miss my dad."
Dad says, "I miss my dog."***

I haven't been much of a blogger lately, busy times indeed. Someday, I'll have to pen something about balance, that tricky state of biting off just enough, not more than you can chew or too little so as to be starving. Busy-ness I suppose is a bit like overeating in that at some point you have to find a comfortable limit of appetite.

Speaking of, I made yummy ham and pea soup today. And I spread some grass seed.

Good times tomorrow, though. Headed to a luncheon where my nonprofit, ACES, will be honored by the NFL/ESPN/Dick's Sporting Goods. Schmoozing and a bit of cash await. Then tomorrow, Monday, night, look for me on TV, for I'll be at the Vikings-Packers game. That should be something else, as those games always seem to be. Going to Monday night games is always a geeky thrill, anyway. Rumor has it we may get a tour of the ESPN MNF set and production facilities. We'll see.

Then Tuesday evening I have a short speaking function, then I sleep. And Wednesday night, I sleep.

One
day
at
a
time.

Beth's dog, Oliver, spent the night with me Friday, a little mano y mano time. Very, very exciting. Oliver was as pooped as I, it was almost bedtime when we got here. So we watched a little bit of Forrest Gump while I taped my hockey sticks. Then I played hockey Saturday morning.

So now I sleep, I'll be back later this week. Go Cards!!!

Goodnight Bernie.

I Love Joe Sakic

Ah, well, thankfully I checked the sports page for sports on the tube tonight, noticed that there are two NHL games on tonight. Better yet, it's opening night of the regular season. Best, it's "Joe Sakic Night" in Denver. Joe retired after last year. Believe you me I could go on and on about Joe, but frankly, his statistics speak for themselves. As far as on-ice presence, for those of you in St. Louis, think Brett Hull x 2. Seriously, and there's no bigger Brett Hull fan than I. All I really can say is, if there were more athletes, and people for that matter, who would share their good fortune and remain humble amidst vast success the way #19 did, we'd all be better off. He's a star among stars, though you'd never know it if you met him. Yep, there are still a few good ones out there, folks, but that number decreases daily. Take 'er easy, Joe.