Not Alone

It's a nice day. The sun is shining, it's a little windy but nothing unmanageable, and I finished class about six minutes after ten in the morning. It seemed like the perfect time to head over to one of our island's parks.

My good dog Marge and I got ourselves in the car and arrived at our destination soon enough. Upon arriving, we headed straight up a steep hill to make our way into the wooded trails. I figured we'd walk those first and then walk back to the car using the paved route along the stream and lake.

It started out well enough, Marge's body hauling me on my hands and knees (yes, really) up the slippery and snowy hill and her nose expertly leading us into the forest. We walked on like that for awhile, totally alone, the everyday sights and sounds of the rest of the world blocked by massive tree trunks and muted by the crackle of leaves under our feet.

We made our way into a clearing - it's a no-go during the summer, when picnickers dominate the scene. But, for now, it was quiet. Marge reluctantly posed on a picnic table for me and then continued letting her scent receptors lead her (and me) around.


She found a smelly spot and threw herself to the floor. Usually, I don't grant her this pleasure, but because it didn't look like anything that would stick to her, I allowed her to do as she wanted. Besides, I told myself, this outing was supposed to be all about her having fun and relaxing.


Just minutes after her back scratch in the leaves, loud bangs rang out through the air. I assume they were from a nearby construction site. Marge went in to instant panic.

Damn it. That's all I could think. Here goes the afternoon.

I tried my hardest to not get frustrated or upset, and she seemed to bounce back pretty quickly - at least more quickly than our episode with the hockey rink in another park a few weeks ago. Fortunately, a small dog went by moments after, and this seemed to reassure Marge a little bit. I threw treats into the leaves for her to nose and dig her way through to them. Although she was still frightened, she was willing to play this little game.

She was also willing to jump over this log, which I believe is the same downed tree she leapt over last January. I didn't rediscover its location until now.


I wasn't sure what to do - she was doing better, but there were still some construction noises resonating through the air. I began to walk back to my car, thinking that I'd maybe walk her in the quiet area of the park across the street and then head home.

By dumb luck, Marge stopped to sniff something along the road as we walked, and I turned my body around. I saw something that both swelled my heart and sank it at the same time. My mind now totally immersed and locked on to this sight, I abruptly turned 180 degrees and walked briskly, straight back into the park that I had just exited.


I knew Marge might react and I'd have to reassure her. I knew we might hear the dreaded and faraway sounds yet again. But, I simply could not help myself. This is not an every day sight around here.

I don't know how many of my readers know of my long background with horses. They dominated my life for an extended period of time. I did not leave them by choice; to explain beyond that, I would basically have to demonize several people. I lost my heart horse to colic in 2007 and things have never been the same since then.

I think of them often. This morning, in fact, I found myself in the midst of a daydream centered on them, my mind far away from the college class in which I was sitting at the time. I recently heard about the deaths of two horses that I previously knew (and knew well), but no longer have contact with. It's an odd situation to be in from an emotional standpoint.

I trailed the park rangers and their horses for a good ten minutes, at least. The sound of their snorts was something I used to hear on a weekly basis; their horsey aroma was something so familiar to me. They were the picture of peace, walking slowly through the busy park with their tails swishing and hooves clopping. I kept my distance, out of respect for them and safety for myself, but Marge was giving me no signs that they were bothering her. Other dogs barked, some lunged with owners grabbing them by their collars. Marge just walked.

We were now on the main path of the park. We were with everyone else with no woods to hide in. I was in my own little world, thinking back to the experiences of my past that I long for all too often. My dog was not scared. Instead, she gazed up at me with soft eyes, looking for treats, which she did receive.

I'm not a terribly religious person, but I felt like someone or something was with me as I walked with them. My whole day had been turned around; what I thought would wind up being unconsciously classified as a "bad" outing in my mind actually became quite good. My horse -- and all the horses of my past -- were with me. And my dog, who walked next to me, was at complete peace. I think they were with her, too. It may sound crazy, but I really love to think of it that way. I love to know that my old man Taco is still ensuring that I'm not alone.

I see him on sunny days, recalling the sweltering hot and endless days I spent at the stable for so many summers. I see him in the snow, thinking silently of how such weather would make him kick up his heels and run around like a young colt. I see him in the rain, in the forest, in every beautiful thing I see. But, today, I truly saw him as those two painted horses walked ahead of me. I saw him and I saw all the others, too.

I followed them until I couldn't follow them anymore - they turned into another section of the park, and I knew better than to take Marge there. We turned around, flanking a white-faced Golden Retriever nearly the whole way back. Marge was truly in her element. Her body language screamed enthusiasm and courage. At that point, I knew we were ready to leave.

My mind remained in a blur as I drove away from the park. I could think of nothing except the horses I've loved and lost, wishing for a way to be with them.

I'm happy I got a glimpse of these lovely creatures. They made my day, and from the looks of it, Marge's too. I can only hope that they will one day be in my life again.