Dusty at Dawn

A new friend asked me to pet sit his dog while he drove a long distance and attended to family matters.

Of course I said ‘yes.’ This is the way I get my dog time these days until I adopt a dog from a shelter or one intersects with my meandering life, as two of my great dogs did in the past.

It was dark when Dusty and I set out to the beach, but dawn was coming on and dawn is my favorite time of day. There is always possibility in dawn. The day is yet unspoiled. That morning light of a faded yellow and blue seems brightest to me.

Dusty is a large dog, orange and white in color, a mutt, a sweetheart. It’s one of the happiest dogs I’ve ever met.

We reached the beach, I set Dusty free, and he darted to the surf, circled me two or three times, dug furiously in the sand, rolled on his back…all within the first 30 yards!

The light gained strength. I walked and hunted for treasures. Dusty ran and went mad. I found my new goofy voice and nickname for him, as I do with every dog I hang out for any length of time. Why is that? I think more of us should do that with human beings we enjoy being around.

I don’t know how long or how far Dusty and I traveled. I can’t recall what I thought about. Probably nothing useful or useless. It was most likely in between, like dawn.