On Saturday afternoon, the energy-sapping sunshine and heat was softened by the sorts of heavy clouds which often promise a rain if not a storm.
In the heavy wilting heat of the morning, we'd done our weekly run to the local fresh fruit and veggie market (what I sometimes call the 'bazaar' in a nod to the Mauritius bazaars of my childhood, where local growers gathered to sell and spruik their fruit and vegies), and a seller reminded us that it was February 13.
It was cool enough that we ventured outside - me, LittleOne and Indi-Girl, our beloved nine-year-old pupper. We grooved outside, did some water-painting, ate some lychees, wondered if the clouds would bring a storm and looked for magic wands in the backyard.
At some point, I looked up and saw Indi-Girl strolling down the side of the house towards the front - to do her regular nose-check of smells and scents of all those who've been by since she last checked. And as far as Indi is concerned, if some poor passer-by should happen to walk by and she could bark at them furiously and venomously, so much the better. Not that I encourage the barking, to comprend la, I just try and discourage her from barking too furiously, for too long.
After a few minutes (3? 5? 10? not sure), I suggested to LittleOne we could also go and see the front garden. Up we strolled, hand in hand, admiring the tall spindly trees with the unripe grapefruit and oranges perched in their branches, round and green.
We reached the front and my heart plummeted straight through my stomach, my feet and into the bowels of the earth.
The garden dates were wide open.
Wide. Wide. Wide open.
Not an accidental-didn't-lock-it-properly-the-wind-blew-it-ajar. We'd forgotten to close them after our morning run to the bazaar!
I couldn't believe it. This was my absolute worst nightmare. To clarify: Indi-Girl is a stumpy-tailed cattle-dog. Her instinct is to be fiercely protective of her family and to bark furiously at everyone and everything else. No in-between. She never goes out without a leash because obedience comes second to warning off that random skateboarder at the end of the road 70 metres away going the other way. She's 9 years old and in excellent doggy health - age hasn't mellowed her in the least. I hurtled out the gate and scanned the street in both directions, panic-stricken and blindly yelling her name. No visual of Indi, no reply.
I ordered LittleOne to follow me and raced around to the back again. I was going to need reinforcements. I got to back, ready to scream and bellow for help to Hubs.
And there was Indi on the deck, drinking some water! The most beautiful sight in the world
I could have wept. Maybe I did. My heart crawled back up through the bowels of the earth and back into my stomach and stayed there, heavy with relief. I raced up, slammed the gate properly closed, checked to see LittleOne was still following me up and down the driveway like a crazed yoyo, and then gathered up LittleOne and we collapsed on the deck. We patted Indi, made a big fuss of her and told her what a good girl she was.
I don't know why she didn't wander out of the gate, but I'm grateful she didn't. Maybe she did, but she didn't venture far. Maybe there was interesting animal smells in the garden itself and she didn't notice the open gate. It seems unlikely, but I don't care. Either way, I'm so blessedly grateful, there are no words. I'm so very grateful no passer-by, no kid in the street, no car, no noisy bike... nothing came by in the time she was around the front. *Insert a few thousand playerful hand emojis*
The additional kicker, of course, is that 14 February is the anniversary of when we lost my beloved Bodie-Boy, Indi's brother. I've written about him here. I'm glad Indi's safe, glad I don't have a double reason to have a heavy heart on Valentine's Day. But the 'what if' of this experience is pretty haunting...
But, as with most things, you dust your heart off, you look forward and you take a deep breath and you keep going.
But you also look down and back too. Just to add, I love my Bodie-Boy, I still miss him, and I love my Indi-Girl and I'm glad she's safe đ
PS. And I'm going to be checking that espece de gate every time now before Indi goes outside!
I love how we can indeed find magic wands in the backyard if we look in the right place. :D Man, I know the feeling when you can’t find your pupper but so happy you were able to make a big fuss. What ifs can be extremely haunting, though as you say, best to dust the heart off and keep going. I miss all 8 of my puppers and am reminded of them in the oddest ways. A crumpled up pair of jeans that would have been a perfect pillow for Randy, a bidet that would have been conquered by Tina as her drinking fountain and no using it for anything else, a dog full of muscles that reminds me of Macho, a logo of a women’s clothing store to remind me of the name Suzette, the store Mom had and the aptly named pup, just remembering the wild joy of Mia, finding myself sitting on the couch like my darling Bailey would have sat, the refined love of KahlĂșa who would refuse to kiss you unless it’d been a long time since she’d seen you, or the curious howl and snuggly goodness of Mojito. All of them are still with me and makes me appreciate most puppers I come across. :)
ReplyDeleteLove this, JD. Absolutely just đđđ this. I remember reading a dream-filled short story you co-wrote with an online/twitter friend, and you described meeting Bailey in the dream and how you watched him bound away with that tug on your heart... I'm paraphrasing, but that scene sat on my heartstrings and didn't let go <3
DeleteBailey also appears in Given to Fly. Eventually they'll all make it to my pages. It's easy to miss them and the heart strings often strum their names
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