Boris

The palm frond leaves flutter briskly. A monotone feathered xylophone. Birds chirp a background quartet as accompaniment to the clippity-clack of Boris' toenails on the cement. He, himself, has an extra brisk step to his walk, at least the first part of his walk, on the downhill, on the away. 

Boris is 15 years old. He stands 14 inches tall and 10 inches wide at the shoulder. His length in proportion to his height is roughly 4:1 His appearance and attitude are something like a stubby canine version of Merlin the Wizard from King Arthurs Court.

The temperature has cooled as October approaches. Approaches a little quicker each year. Most natural deaths occur in autumn, or winter, and if it is not one of those seasons then one of the others. 

The cooler weather puts a little more spring in his legs though and his old age doesn't show as much in his movements. But the seasons approach regardless.

The sunset... always a sunset. The sunset is beautiful. They always are. The sunrise reminds what may be and the set what has been. Boris doesn't philosophize. He has simpler, more honest and pure, social and immediate sensory, centered in the moment, demanding ideas. Go Out. Smell. Brisk Walk. Smell. Follow the Smell. Make the Usual Rounds. This Way. That boxer asshole dog will get an asskicking if she get's bitchier than that... right? (I assure him she will.) Okay. Wag Tail. Brisk Walk. Smell.

Boris finds a little joy when I allow him an extra walk through the school yard. He is 15 years old, how could I say no.

Overheard while taking Boris for his evening walk;

Wind in the trees.

Bird sounds.

The soft doppler sound of a motorcycle with aggressive rpms passing into the far distance down the freeway.

"Bad dog"; an apology for a puppy being a puppy and being too rough with Boris at the corner field, the unofficial neighborhood dog park. Of course Boris got grumpy and snappy when he was almost jumped on, so the puppy was scolded. I didn't apologize I only chuckled, 'I told you he was a grumpy old man'.

Snippet of conversation out of earshot,"... it's pretty bad..."

other mumblings and general negativity.

Boris and I made our exit from the dog park and that asshole boxer made some barks and lunges.

There were a couple with a pressure washer and vacuum cleansing their suburban cars in their suburban driveway and causing an absolute havoc of a noise on an otherwise pleasant evening.

Near silent electric cars humming past.

Slightly louder ice cars doing the same.

Some dogs bark. 

A few more bird sounds.

The bird sounds were the best.

As old man Boris would say, "keep the pleasures simple and the miseries few.