Fidgeting with my phone while sitting on a park bench, I am waiting for a friend to show up. The only sound is of the hissing garden hose, it has leaked and flooded a section of the field and those plants are definitely going to die. There is not a single person to be seen in the sun which beats down on the living and non living alike. Usually I too have no business of being out here on this afternoon, but I still am. Sesh is important.
And then I see them, the boys, a pack of dogs heading somewhere. They are striding determined, but with an urgency. They have a goal and they are on a journey. One of them limps but he matches up to the speed of the pack. The brown one is the alpha, and right behind him is his sidekick, slightly smaller but looks the sharpest with his black spots. If there was a Quentin Tarantino movie on dogs, it would be this.
In admiration, all I am capable speaking in my mind is a question, to them I ask – “Oh, Brave travelers, what takes you where you go – is it food, is it the riches, is it the fair-maidens, or is it war?”
They diagonally cross the park and exit through two gates loosely chained just enough to let one person pass in between them, provided that they bend under the now infused chain and lock. I used to be puzzled by the flakes of rust in my hair whenever I used that entrance.
And then I see my friend, scared, standing in the corner waiting for them to pass. It is a tense few seconds for him. “Hey Dog!” – I call out.