It’s well past summer. The leaves blinged red and orange and gold and are now curled up masses the color of paper bags on the ground. Or so I heard.
I missed the seasons by not having a dog to walk.
Instead I was looking through the window outside whenever I wasn’t staring at another screen.
The sun’s setting earlier now. The gnarled scrubby pines pretending I don’t see them, as though someone yelled out Freeze in a game of Tag.
In Canadia, I saw things thanks to my dog. There’s a common saying around here:
entre chien et lou.
For that time between – when the sun is setting and the night is pushing its way through. It’s half empty and half full, the glass. Between a dog and wolf. Thanks Canada.
