Pastoral

A leisurely walk on a perfect spring evening when the air is still and perfumed with blossoms before they've released the pollen that makes me sneeze. Lilacs, apple trees, rhododendrons, azaleas all in bloom. The dog stops and sniffs; I wait patiently. Onward we stroll, enjoying the peace.

He barfs in a driveway. While I'm fumbling with a handful of bags (eeewww, I'd rather pick up a nice, solid poop) and pulling Miro away from the pile, a cat saunters into the road as a car approaches. The cat ignores the car, which slows. Miro's head lifts; he freezes, watching the cat. The car finally has room to pass, leaving the cat on the other side of the street. Dog and cat stare at each other. I really need to clean up this pile of barf before the homeowner sees us and complains. Cat arches and hisses. Dog dances and bucks. Plastic bags in one hand, leash in the other, I'm trying to haul Miro away without him slithering out of his halti collar.

Three bags later--do you know how hard it is to clean up a pile of barf with plastic bags and no water?--we're marching toward home, Miro glancing back at the cat who still watches us like the  sheriff running the hero out of town.

Easy come, easy go, pardner.