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Agility people may be better at navigating a course than writing a story but
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Rambling with Rebus
by Elaine Thomas
The twilight is deepening as we set off across the fields –
the last remnants of the sun striking the clouds gold.
The dogs chase through the long grass – their passing
leaving a smoke trail of pollen.
They barrel after the ball, so intent they don’t see the
fox in the hedgerow – it watches them quietly and then slips into the dense undergrowth without
a trace.
My old Dalmatian Morse, slops along in the collies wake –
content to watch them circle and spin. Old age has robbed him of his graceful economical trot,
but on a quiet summers evening, he is quite happy to spend an hour nose down, tail ceaselessly
waving, nearly but not quite keeping up.
On the horizon a jet takes off from Gatwick through the
layers of gold and purple, and I wonder what holiday destination they are going to.
Rob turns his head just to check I’m there, and Morse rubs
his head on my leg. I lean down to pull his ears and decide I don’t want to be anywhere
else than here, in the darkening twilight with my dogs.
Five seconds later I walk into a ravenous swarm of midges –
and the mood vanishes. Rebus then hurls himself into the river with no thought as to how he
will get out, and eventually scrambles up the bank, showering me in smelly water, mud and
pondweed.
Still, the squall of stagnant water frightens
off the midges.
Smelling like the bottom of a pond, we squelch
home.
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