As I rested on the cold cement patio this evening, I heard many sounds. I perked one dog ear to catch the flurry of a siren as the ambulance drove past on the road a couple blocks over. The siren paused and eventually faded off beyond the reach of my radar abilities.
Tucking my paws under my chest, I tipped my head to listen to the hum of traffic. Cars zooming home on Sunday night. Or away from the city to the mountains for a snow day tomorrow. I could imagine the red tail lights blurring at high speed on one side as the others blended blue and white into a synchronized patriotic highway.
The hum of engines and tires slapping the asphalt tickled the air with an almost static resonance that I could feel as it passed under my paws and up through the cement beneath me.
A few moments later, I succumbed to the urge to let my head topple over and rest. The sun had just left pink streaks in the sky, which twirled among the white clouds to create a sorbet for my eyes. A sweet mourning dove landed at the bird feeder basin a few feet away. I watched as she dipped her head cautiously below the rim to peck at the seeds. She kept her eye on me as she ate. I kept still, not even twitching my tail in response.
Her
cooing made my eyes flutter. The soft sound slipped down the pink skin lining my ear and felt warm. My heart slowed and managed to beat in tune with each
coo I heard. At last, just as I had tuned into the symphony of the night she played only for me, it ended in a flutter of hurried wings. The flaps of grey brought seed husks flying in a swirl above the basin. She rustled past the lemon tree, sending a sweet fragrance of summer my way as she disappeared into a high perch somewhere in the Italian Cypress across the field.
I wondered what had frightened her, but didn't see a hawk as had happened before. Perhaps the arrival of darkness sent her home. I flicked my ear down to block out the traffic once again.
Yes, the sounds of this Sunday made for a sweet melody I won't forget. I soon headed inside for a warm bed in front of a roaring fire. I hope the dove will return again for an encore.
Bark at you later,
PJ the dog blogging dog :-)
0
