Days Of Laze

Saturday’s weird dust-haze from the Sahara was gone Sunday morning, and in its place was a steady, soft curtain of rain. My wife and I deliberately chose to do nothing except rest. We felt somewhat battered by the week, by information we’re trying to process, by decisions we’re trying to reach, and by the time the first day of the week came around, we were more than ready to call “Time out!” and shrug the packs from our shoulders.

I spent a large portion of the day with Jinx. Just wandering around, walking the road, exploring the woods and fields, sitting quietly, playing fetch. Jinx, for all his fine qualities, is not a particularly lovey-dovey dog. He’s way too high energy for just sitting and being hugged like Bonnie used to enjoy. Any time I try to embrace him, he usually sees this as an invitation to Human Vs. Canine Wrestling, and this is the grudge match we’ve been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen! and he throws himself on me, slobbering on my ears, trying to flea-bite my beard, shoving me with his body weight, just generally acting like a hyperactive child who ran out of Ritalin three days ago.

But on Sunday, I decided to see if he would sit with me while I read. I settled on the old love seat in our office (a converted one-time garage), opened my book, and watched him leap up next to me. For a few minutes, he was his usual hyper self, but I quietly pushed him down repeatedly, and after a while, he made himself comfortable.

Once I was absorbed in my book, Jinx slid over until his head was in my lap, his snout resting against my belly. He hitched a deep sigh and went into a blissful, snoring sleep that lasted quite a while. Every ten minutes or so, he would open his eyes slightly and gaze up into my face, and I have to tell you, it was a look of the most pure devotion, strong enough to make me put down my book and just sit and look at his peaceful, trusting face.

When he finally awoke, I was glad to be able to stand and stretch. He padded off to get a drink, and then wanted to go outside a nose around. For the rest of the day, I thought of the peace that enveloped me while my dog was snoozing on my lap. On a day like today, when I am feeling the stress that’s aging and dissipating me, the memory is like medicine.

The last time my wife and I stayed in an AirBnB, our host was a pastor. He was a singularly unpleasant person, unsmiling and brusque, with the most mistrustful, suspicious eyes I’ve seen in a while. During our initial contact, while he was going over a few things related to the house, he happened to mention the no-pet policy. We were already aware of it and just nodded, glancing at each other and telepathically wondering why he was talking about pets when he could clearly see that we didn’t arrive loaded down with St. Bernards and Great Danes. As he was winding up his spiel, the pastor/host said, “I just don’t like animals.”

We exchanged another look.

He went on to talk about his great love of hunting, and then said again, “I just don’t like animals. Don’t have much use for dogs at all.”

That was all we needed to know. With his few unsolicited sentences, he cemented our already instinctive dislike of the man. Later, when we talked about it, my wife said, “And he’s a pastor, for goodness sake!”

What an impoverished soul. I thought of him on Sunday while basking in the warm affection of my spotted dog. This is yet one more thing I cannot understand about some people. It’s a complete mystery to me.

~ S.K. Orr