As Seen from the Crest of the Hill

The car parked next to the field, and the man opened the door.  Two dogs leaped out, tails wagging and gratitude expressed in every muscle.  The man motioned toward the green field and those dogs took off.

They flew.  The big black retriever ate up the ground with his long strides.  The black and white Border collie glided along the grass behind the bigger dog.  They bounded and rolled with each other, taking turns in the chase, and stopping reluctantly at their owner’s whistle.

The owner held a bright tennis ball, and the dogs lay at his feet in anticipation.  He teased them some, but then lofted the ball far off into the field.

The retriever burst into a full run, hind legs pushing off and front legs leaping forward.  He was fast and soon found the ball.

all photos courtesy of Bing.com

Behind him ran the collie.  He had run his best and his fastest, but short legs never beat long legs.  Laws of physics demand consistency.

Again, they waited for the owner’s throw.  Again they raced each other to the ball.  Again, the retriever trotted back with the ball in his mouth, head high and tail waving from side to side.  He dropped the dripping ball at the man’s feet and looked up expectantly for the next throw.

Happy, happy, happy!  I'm so happy....

This time the collie didn’t return to the owner.  Instead, the wee black and white dog stopped half-way, and waited.

In your face, big dog!

The owner sent the ball off into the field.  The collie watched it go overhead, and ran with it, seeing it land in a patch of sea grass.  He plucked it from its perch, and trotted back.  Coming to a braking stop is hard for a locomotive retriever; he rolled head over tail, just as the perky collie carried the ball to the man.

The collie played the game well, getting to the ball first time after time.  The retriever poured on the power, ran his big dog heart out, but lost.  Finally the retriever gave up, and lay down. 

The man whistled and the dogs climbed into the open car door.  They moved slowly, but the retriever moved the slowest of all.

(Observations on a breezy ocean day: 2008)

Possible Writing Titles

Writers have gotten creative with the titles.  The movies have joined in. 

Showing at theaters this week are multi-word titles that use colons and sometimes even hyphens:

Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol

Alvin and the Chipmunks:  Chipwrecked

Sherlock Homes: A Game of Shadows

The Twilight Saga:  Breaking Dawn – part 2

This titles-with-colons-and-explanations trend spurred a list of book titles in my little pink notebook that I keep on my nightstand.  NOW, it is possible that these titles are silly due to my general peculiarities, or to the sleeping (herbal) meds I take, or even the non-herbal meds. 

Just bear with me while I list my possible (and highly improbable) new book projects:

Riveting Tales of Menopause:  One Woman’s Struggle with Sanity

Dark Halls:  The Post-Christmas Laundry Avalanche

Frozen Depths:  The Mystery of the Mixed Vegetables

The Not Shining:  The Missing Batteries

When Polyester Attacks:  Hot Flashes

The Loneliness of the Channel Surfer:  The Late Night Hours

To Tweet or Not To Tweet:  That Is the Question

Living Large: The Upsurge of Elastic Waists

Who Turned the Heat Up:  Guilty?

The Missing Remote:  Who Used It Last?

Silly, I know.

 But, I ask you:  Why Not? 

Again:  Why the Heck Not?

Samuel and Christmas Day

Christmas morning dawned with the doorbell ringing.  When the Old Church door opened, gift laden relatives gushed into the house. 

Taken by surprise, Samuel was swept up in the flood by Aunt Tammy.  Having no spit, vomit, mucous, or gas to give her as his own gift, Samuel improvised.  He balled up his fist and bonked her square on the nose.  Just for you, Tammy Whammy.

The result was spectacular as blood poured.  Nana grabbed Samuel before he could be dropped, and said, “Good grief, Tammy.”  A sparkle in Nana’s eyes told him that he had done well.

The flood carried Samuel to the Christmas tree, where a lone cookie lay on the plate.  Samuel shook his head. No sense of adventure?  Disappointed, Samuel stuffed the cookie in his mouth, raisin and all.

The gift opening frenzy began.  Present after present came at Samuel.  He scarcely had time to tear off the paper before The Daddy took the box away and gutted it for the toy inside.  Not the box!  Don’t hurt the box!

When the box was heaved onto a growing mound, Samuel glared at The Daddy.   Dammit, man!  Have you lost all touch with your inner child?

With the last gift unwrapped, the adults wandered around.

Samuel was lost in a sea of knees, a crowd of crotches. 

He found his way to the cat cage, where Ginger hunkered down.  Move over, cat.  I’m coming in.

Ginger snarled.  Get your own, kid.  This is mine.

Samuel sighed.  The mound of boxes looked promising.  Inspired, Samuel found the large microwave box and pushed it down the hall.  It was a monumental effort.

Arriving at Grammy’s guest room, Samuel moved the box to the open closet.  He climbed inside, tucked his thumb in his mouth, and dropped off to sleep.

Hours later, The Mommy found him after a frantic search.

In the wrapping paper clean up, Santa’s letter lay sadly unnoticed.  It read, Nice try, Samuel.  I will see you next year.  F.M.in the R. S. aka Santa