Kicked

Today, we went for a walk. Wow, was it windy; but it was nice because it was the first day in a long time that we were able to go for a walk what with Joan being so sick this winter. When we got home, I lay down in my usual spot next to the fence. There I was, just minding my own business feeling the cold wind lift my fur, listening to the almost imperceptible whistle of the thin air and low groan of the sleeping trees. Even the grass was shushing in its very dry way, almost as though it were trying to blow out the snowflakes that danced on top of its brown winter blades.

What I didn’t hear as I marveled at the sounds that creaked and whooshed on this first day of March was the girl next door as she tiptoed across her own dry lawn toward the fence. I didn’t hear her as she picked up a stick and threw it back down because it was too big. I didn’t hear her as she came close to the fence where I lay, and I didn’t hear as she drew back her foot and slammed it against the chain-link fence hitting me right on my behind.

I yelped.

And the girl hadn’t heard or seen Joan walking down the driveway as this was going on; and she didn’t know Joan had just witnessed her mean streak. “Hey! Why did you kick my dog?” yelled Joan.

And the girl lied in a tiny voice full of sugar cubes: “Oh, I was just petting her.”

Now I can’t lie against the fence anymore. It was my favorite spot. Now Joan wishes she were rich enough to move away. Now I’m going to sit in the house and think about kicking and lies and the creaking sounds of a cold windy day that bring surprises that would have no place in a kinder world.

Best wishes for a better days,

Juno