Canyon heron

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Today I took Sadie and Bridji (of the Shakespearean spelling, if you hadn’t noticed — long story) to a walk in the canyon, fulfilling a promise I made to Sadie when she was in the hospital. She could hardly wait to get out of the car, and bounded about the parking lot and the first few hundred yards of the trail with great enthusiasm before she lost energy and calmed down. She’s not 100%, not the dog who could gallop for miles, burst out of the bushes and spin in a blur of white in a 180 degree turn after a bird, and then jump from the ground into my arms after two hours in the hot sun, but she’s getting there. She played for five minutes with her “squirrel tail” toy today, a piece of faux fur attached to a tennis ball that she flings about the house and rolls on obsessively. She bounded into the house and out and onto the bed and off, and into the car and out instead of stepping gingerly. And she’s beginning to eat with enthusiasm again, even to beg for table food (Who said she’s not spoilt!).

Best of all, as we were heading back, she stopped suddenly, staring into the sky. Almost overhead, not 20 feet above us, I saw a great blue heron fly past, miles from the river where herons usually nest. Bridji sniffed in the bushes as Sadie stood transfixed till the heron was gone.

I’m still smiling.

Continued here.