When you’re young, often you don’t recognize the reliability in others, even when you need it most. Some people are just there for you, watching your back. But when your most reliable companion is a dog, you tend to be often present or looking forward. A dog never worries about the past, no grudges or ill will found, and in fact, a dog preoccupies themselves with the current moment, and what’s just around the bend.
This particular dog, raised in the dark alleyways of Milwaukee, while the master stumbled home from the fading sound of the music, and the failed search for companionship a dog falls short of, was always watching out for him. This young life for them both, this urban exploration, offered a dense rush of human experience. But when they hit the road, the freedom from odd smells, broken glass, unrecognized noise, and the sense of potential crime, vanished, replaced with the sweet natural smells of the trail, or fresh, swift flow of the river.
She was always just ahead, around the bend, scouting. On one occasion, as the canoe eased around the narrow side of the river he saw her standing still and visually locked on the sight ahead. Looking further he saw what had grabbed all the attention, a huge Bull Moose standing in the middle of the river. She held her ground, but with the strong current, the canoe continued to move ahead. Within less than twenty feet of the creature, it turned its head, and through nostrils the size of baseballs, it drew in the threatening scent, and began to charge.
Charge the bank of the river actually. With hooves thrusting bank mud in the air and busting through large pine boughs with its huge rack, the moose left a trail in its wake as it disappeared into the wilderness of northern Minnesota.
The dog just accepted the occurrence as being beyond her ability to effect. Shaking off the experience she moved up river, anticipating what might be around the next bend. Always looking ahead.
