Hunt

I woke at 4 am. Gilbert, with his congestive heart failure has been coughing in the night. He’s pleased that I’m awake. After petting his squirmy little body I attended to the toilet and also shaved.  Then I dressed in leotards and cammo leggings. I remembered dressing for hockey like this.  Long socks. Preparing for the cold. I’m going to ride the Vespa in the backwoods and sit at dawn waiting for deer to walk by.  I’ll take my Ruger 30:06 for big game and the Chiappa 22/20guage for grouse and rabbits. I packed my cammo pack sack last night.

With a flannel shirt and flannel vest and hide slippers I was ready to take Gilbert outside.  I put the flashing light on his harness and took a flash light.  I sat at the picnic table and looked up at the canopy of stars. He’s blind and old. He sniffed a circle of the campground peeing and finally pooping.I meditated.  Praising God, talking to Jesus. It’s incomparable beauty. I remember my father and brother and I lying on our backs on the lawn learning constellations. Now my nephew is an astronomer.  I’m resisting thinking of the the bitterness of life, the old wars, the wounds, then too all the good people I’ve know. A whole cast of characters.  

I worry about him getting too far away, a quick snatch coyote. I picked him up and brought him into the cabin.

Now I’m waiting for the coffee.  It’s time to move along.