A Little Slice of Heaven

Every morning, hot or cold, rain or shine, J, K, or JK take me for a walk.  Usually Buzz goes along, unless it’s very cold or rainy.  On those days he burrows into his lair and shuts his eyes until breakfast time, when he miraculously awakes Oh is it that time already? Breakfast? Oh I guess. 

They both have to drink their coffee and J has to do her exercises before we go.  So exasperating. While she’s busy doing pointless movements (she could be walking!!),  I dig around in the laundry basket for  dirty socks and drop them near her. Just a few tiny hints.  Thanks but not those socks Maxie.  I’ll get some clean ones when I’m ready to go downstairs.  Sometimes she has as many as three or four dirty socks ringing her sit-up routine.  She says it is hard to do sit ups while laughing, but she doesn't stop, even when I lick her cheek.

Finally, finally!   I pound the fastest staccato beat on the way downstairs, carrying one of her clean socks. Maybe it's a little slobbery.  K is done with his coffee and we leash up.  I race around the garage and stand up by the counter several times to remind them to take the Chuck-it, with my beloved blue and orange ball. 

By this point I’m wound to full capacity. Heel Maxwell!  Oh how many times have I heard that.  Thousands.  

JK have this way of talking their own language.  For instance, a regular recliner  is a narco-lounger to them because they tend to fall asleep in them (K says "they"= J).  Or let’s say K is out – he will call J and say cheerily but cryptically, Chick extra pick?  And J will say Yes! And sure enough, just from those four words, K will show up with Chick Fil-A sandwiches with extra pickles and a side of cole slaw (Buzz says put in here that they don’t share any of it).  How’s your sushi-Q means what’s your sushi quotient, are you in the mood for sushi (which they always are).  If K says to J, It's your turn to drive, I've been driving all night,  they're not in the car. They are sort of watching TV, arguing over who has to hold the remote and find something less inane than the program that is on. Since that is usually really hard work, neither of them wants  to do it.  You get the idea.

So on the walk, naturally, somewhere along the line, the Chuck-It morphed into a golf club, and the top of the Pine Cove Lane hill turned into the tee box, and my beloved blue and orange ball became a golf ball.  Here's the great part:  I am the caddy that finds the ball!  Think it feel it trust it K will say.  Something he read.  Then they take turns flinging that ball as absolutely hard and straight as they can, down the sloping dead-end road.  And just like in real golf, sometimes it slices right, sometimes hooks left, and sometimes it is that heavenly shot, right down the faded center line of the asphalt road, which they call the “fairway”.  If it rolls to Lucy the little black poodle's mailbox before I can get to it, it's extra great.  The shrubs and thistles on either side are “the rough”. 

Straight shots make them pump their fists and say YESSSS!  And slap a high five to one another or whatever. Maybe J does a little happy dance.  Well, Buzz tells me this is what they do, since I, the caddy, am busy finding the ball.  So the cars driving by see them high five each other, Buzz tells me.  It’s pretty embarrassing. He copes by sniffing every blade of grass while they are taking their tee shots. 

Sometimes the bad shots are really, really bad. I pay the price.  Burrs, thistles, what have you.  Chuck-it golfer caddies are hard workers.

All the way to the cul-de-sac,  they go on throwing the ball, flinging second and third “baffler shots” or whatever.

At the end of Pine Cove Lane, the halfway mark, suddenly the “golf club” turns into a “baton” when KJ switch dogs and leashes.  They try to do a smooth handoff, (not hard when you are walking 3 mph, Buzz sniffs to me.)  They should try grabbing a ball out of thin air after it bounces ten feet on the asphalt.  But I don't say anything.

Back up the hill we go.  Golf club replaces baton, but they both look like the Chuck-it to me. At the top, they test their driving skills again. I chase the ball, up and down, back and forth.  No matter what, the slices, the hooks, or the perfect shots, rain or shine, I know I am so lucky to be outside, doing what I love best. 

K and I head back up the Pine Cove "fairway" on a rainy morning.
See the Chuck-it golf club?

Speaking of golf and heaven and sunshine. JK just got another member of the pack!!  This time it’s an adorable little cub named Darby. His dad is in golf school and his mom is J’s girl and they live in Florida.  I’ve met them before. Wow!  Great news! Another person for me to herd.  J is down in Florida, soooo happy to meet this little guy. She says that having this angelic new grandbaby to visit is the best time ever. JK just love visiting all 4 of their grand little cubs. 

Every morning in Florida these days, even without us,  J goes for a walk in a movie-set-like town called Celebration, and she calls K on the way there. I like to listen in.  Florida in January is like heaven, she says.  It’s 75 degrees out here!  She walks around a lake which is ringed with houses and shops and a hotel and a park and a Starbucks, not that she noticed it. She has seen some really pretty birds.  And her girl told her about this place: Oh Man.

J visited the store. These kind of things are inside!

The other day J sent K a picture and a text.  I saw it.

So exciting!  I can’t tell what’s inside that pink bag! And I wish I could sniff that green hydrant on the right! Buzz and I just cannot wait.

In the meantime, I'm having a great time with K. Yesterday we went exploring, looking for fishing streams.  I love hiking! Another type of heaven. 

I’m OK with J being gone for a while, even though I'm lonely for her, because it’s so important for her to help with this little Darby guy, who I just cannot wait to meet. J says in the meantime, a soft dawg is checking in on baby Darby for Buzz and me.

I think that all of life is pretty much a slice of heaven.  Even the hard times and the bad shots and the burrs and thistles and the waiting, waiting, waiting for a sweet little human.  Because without the waiting, the baby would never appear.  And we would never find out what's in the pink bag. Or find the fishing stream. Or experience the joy of reunions when J comes back.  And without the slices and hooks, how would we know to do a high five or a happy dance when the shot is straight down the middle?