Shed

A woke to a gorgeous springtime morning in Texas. Yes, Texas can be hot and brown and flat, but there's a breeze in north Texas that's almost constant. It's a light breeze that I never expected to find but by the water. As we're pretty landlocked in Dallas, I thought leaving Portland and the Maine coast would be the last I'd feel of ocean breezes and that briny saltwater smell. From our apartment on Munjoy Hill we could smell the ocean and hear the lighthouse foghorns as new weather would roll in. No such smell or sound here, but there is the breeze. Thankfully.

I took Arwen out for an early walk. She likes the dew and the smells it traps. The recent lingering trails of overnight rabbits, bugs and coyotes. I had the Furminator with me and went to town on her pokey tufts of fur. Arwen was in "ancient dog observation mode", and my brushing yielded mounds of white fluffy fur. She stood distracted, staring into the brush. She gave me no warnings, but I couldn't help but wonder if we were being watched. What would a wild animal think of this spectacle? Was there a coyote wondering about this torture?

Arwen lost a dog's worth of fur. She was mostly patient and when I was done, we headed toward home. Maybe it was my imagination, but I think she was just a bit more spry on our way home. A spring in her step. I looked back at the pile of fur and saw how it was spreading. The breeze was carrying it on into the brush. It would soon be part of a bird's nest and fill a rabbit dens for warmth. All this would come from one brushing. Rebirth, renewal, reuse.

As I walked Nyxie along the same trail later, she nosed through the fur still stuck to the tall grass. There was recognition, but her sensitive nose undoubtedly didn't need my visual cues of white fur. She knew Arwen and I had taken the same trail just minutes before.

"Fur? Yeah, no big deal. Same stuff's all over the carpet..."