I saw him again this morning. It was the early gloamin’ hours, maybe 5:30 a.m. Sunrise was not yet near, but the streets were sufficiently illuminated by the three-quarter moon, glimmering weakly behind stars, a sorry remnant of the dominating “Super Blue Blood Moon” of days before. Every third or fourth porch light was on, waiting for the coming dawn when their electronic timing systems would shut them down. No cars were about, no commuters getting an early start on this first day of the weekend.

I assume he had chosen this early time because a winter storm alert was posted for the mid-morning hours. The air was brisk, but not the soul-shaking cold I had seen him walk through on previous encounters. He had retained his ski cap pulled tightly over his ears, but he no longer needed a thick woolen scarf over his nose and mouth. He must have shed one of his layers of jackets as well, his Michelin body slimmed as if a tire or two had been deflated. And surprisingly, for there was still chill in the air, his hands neither wore gloves nor were they jammed into the pockets of his down jacket.

I looked down and noted the canvas slip-on shoes on his feet. Inappropriate for the frozen asphalt I thought, perhaps they were a reminder of warmer days traveling in a more temperate climate. Maybe the walk was spur of the moment on an early morning awakening, and these were the closest shoes at hand. No matter the reason, they lent a jauntiness to him as he strode through the suburban neighborhood.

Most unlike his previous, solitary, excursions, today the Walking Man was not alone. In his bare hands was clutched a thin leather leash, and trotting at his feet was a terrier of sorts, a humdinger of a dog, curly tail held high. The pup pranced like a Clydesdale Draught Horse, each paw raised high with every step, proud and happy to be out on such a singular morning with his master at his side. If the cold was an assault on his small body, he didn’t show it, his sleek dappled fur all the protection he needed as the temperature hovered around the freezing mark. They matched each others stride and pace, tennis partners anticipating each other’s every move.

I look forward to seeing them in the spring when the temperature begins to creep above 6oº. The pup looks like he is geared to run, perhaps the Walking Man, unburdened by coat and hat, will join him. It’s not too far away, I hope.
____

Photo Credit: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5/

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise!

___

#mc_embed_signup{background:#fff; clear:left; font:14px Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; }
/* Add your own MailChimp form style overrides in your site stylesheet or in this style block.
We recommend moving this block and the preceding CSS link to the HEAD of your HTML file. */

//s3.amazonaws.com/downloads.mailchimp.com/js/mc-validate.js(function($) {window.fnames = new Array(); window.ftypes = new Array();fnames[0]=’EMAIL’;ftypes[0]=’email’;fnames[1]=’FNAME’;ftypes[1]=’text’;fnames[2]=’LNAME’;ftypes[2]=’text’;}(jQuery));var $mcj = jQuery.noConflict(true);