Morning Walk

Am, for once, tired out from exercise, pure of caffeine (none since seven in the morning,) and thus perfectly able to sleep through the night, except that Dave does not stop tossing and turning. Am dragged out of dreams involving (in order) driving in muddy ditches, digging in a sandy garden, and very bizzare and graphic dream involving alarming treatment for shortness of breath. All dreams as though scripted by Dr. Freud himself. Get out of bed very early, as does Dave. He has circles under his eyes even after he washes his face and brushes his teeth. He puts on pants and a sweatshirt. It seems that he is going on the morning walk with me and Jenny. Jenny yips excitedly and jumps up on him (she has long ceased to show similar consideration to me in the morning. Feelings are temporarily hurt. Devise plan to punish Jenny--no treats for a week and no accidental dropping of cheese or chicken during food preparation--but relent immediately when she runs over to me and nips playfully at my ankle.) We walk out into the early dawn. Park empty but for dogs and their walkers. Trees blooming. Ask Dave why he had such trouble sleeping. He sighs. Jenny takes off after a very ugly squirrel--tail--what there is of it--coal black and mangy. Mange exposes what is the true tail under the fur. Tail as skinny as a rat's and the same color as a dog's erection. Squirrel is very fat but still much faster than Jenny. Squirrel makes a dash up an oak then turns around to chitter at Jenny who is barking below. Jenny give a final brisk bark and then trots back to where we stand. Dave whacks her side and says Good Dog, in a deep voice, which makes Jenny wiggle like a puppy. After this interlude, we are broght back to the concerns of humans. Dave says that he is Tired of Cutting Hair and what would I think of him selling his stake in the salon. Can well understand this, but am struck with fear. Blurt out, Everything is changing at once! This hurts Dave's feelings--he just wanted to talk something over with me--why do I have to overreact. Say with murderous hysteria, I am not overreacting. Conversation devolves--past crimes, snubs, inconsistancies referred to at length. After both of us reach a moment of mental exaustion, we call a truce and go to cafe that allows dogs. Dave talks while I drink coffee with half-and-half. All is, naturally, not as bad as I'd assumed (what had I assumed?) Dave has been offered a licensing contract for products. Mind takes predictable trip to Paris, to real estate agents, and Barneys, but somehow keep mouth shut. He isn't sure if it is going to work out, but if it does, then he wouldn't have to do the day to day anymore. Ask what he wants to do. That he doesn't know. Jenny bites at what hope is not, but sure is, a flea.