Strange Is All In The Perspective Of The Observer

There are times when I feel compelled to leave my dark cave and wander out into the world to see what’s going on out there.  These days I am mostly homebound, taking care of my husband and writing for hours at a time.  These ventures out into the sunshine and fresh air are very important to my husband, and my dog Mooch.  Once these two have acclimated themselves and recovered from the blinding glare of sun glancing off my pale legs, they like nothing more than to go to the beach and splash around in the water.  This is the only stretch of beach in my area of Florida where a dog is allowed.  So, it’s not uncommon for us to encounter other dogs and dog owners.  Today was one such day.  I bundled husband and dog into my tiny car and ventured forth with gusto.  Okay, well, truly my gusto lasted about all of ten minutes, but, hey, it was ten minutes of pure fun.  (It’s Florida, it’s suffocatingly hot, need I say more?)

After quite a long, hot walk from the car, we paused at the top of the piles and piles of granite boulders that separate the people beach from the puppy beach.  Voices carried across the wind, reaching our ears.  Beside me, Mooch whimpered softly, reminding me that she wanted to hurry up.  I shifted the heavy backpack I carried…okay, okay, already, it wasn’t so heavy, it’s really just a small pack with three bottles of water in it….  Hmmm…where was I?  Oh, yes.  I shifted the heavy backpack I carried and glanced at my husband to make sure he was okay.  He nodded without my even voicing my concern.

Someone nearby chattered away to a small child…oops, I stand corrected, this person was in fact chattering away to five small dogs.  But, geez, it sure did sound like someone was talking to a small child.  How could anyone talk to a dog like that in public?  Like the dumb dogs understood her?  How weird can you be?

Dragging my attention away from the woman talking to her dogs, I asked my husband, “You wanna head down?”

“Yup,” he answered.

As soon as my husband said the word, Mooch nearly knocked me off my feet trying to precede me down the rocky face leading to her favorite beach.  I uttered a few curse words, righted myself, and carefully hopped from rock to rock until I stood on the sand below.  A second later, my husband appeared beside me.  My husband is thin, agile, and always able to leap small buildings in a single bound.  At times like these, I forget he has cancer.  Standing beside me in the sun, he looked to be the picture of perfect youth and health.  That youthfulness part really annoyed me.  Why does he have to look so #@$!@ much younger than me?  But I digress….Where was I?  Oh, yes, the beach.

Above me, a female voice stridently cried out, “You are not going to be difficult this time, you hear me?”

Thinking a mother was scolding a small child, I turn to see that it’s not a mother and child at all.  It’s a woman and her sheepdog, the latter of which is blocking the path and refusing to go down the rocks.

“So odd,” I muttered.

“What?” Hubby-poo asks.

“All these people.  Listen to them.  They’re chattering away to their dogs like they’re talking to people. It’s just weird.”

I stared at my husband.  For some strange reason, he had a funny look on his face.  “What?” I asked.

He grinned and shrugged.

Mooch whined.  I shifted my attention to her hopeful face.

“Okay, Mooch, where do you wanna go?” I asked my beloved hound.  “You’ve got so many choices.  You can go over there and play in the water by the rocks, or you can go down the beach and dig in the sand?  What’s it gonna be today, huh?”

Mooch tugged on her leash, whined, and then took off for the nearest surf.

“Don’t go too far,” I called out behind her.

I threw my backpack into the sand and then glanced at my husband to see if he was coming.  He was still looking at me with a grin on his face.

“What?” I asked.

He shrugged.

I looked back at Mooch.  She was standing in the surf staring at both of us, waiting impatiently for us to catch up.

“Be right there,” I called over to her.

My husband started cracking up.

“What?” I demanded again.  I was feeling some ornery coming on.  I hate it when he doesn’t answer me.

“You.  You’re talking to your dog.  You know, just like everyone else on this beach.  You’re funny, that’s all.”

I frowned.  I could see where he was going now.  “But…it’s Mooch,” I pointed out.  “Mooch is different.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. 

Before I could reply, he raced for the surf, leaving me standing there staring after him as the myriad of voices around me kept right on talking to their dogs.

“It’s Mooch,” I muttered as I walked down to join them.  “So what if I talk to my dog.  Maybe I am a weirdo.  Big deal.  It’s Mooch.  She’s different.”

Copyright 2008  C. D. Blizzard  

C. D. Blizzard is the author of the novels Blackwater, Profile, and Broken.

Wanna see some books by C. D. Blizzard?   Go To: www.cdblizzard.com