It smells spicy; my first thought as I leave the car.
Nikita and I are at our normal spot, Dawson Park, for our morning walk.
It’s hazy. The 830 a.m. news talked about fog around the city. The air is thick and heavy, made visible by it’s moisture.
She does her business right away. I pick it up with a bag.
‘Nothing like the feel of warm dog poop in the morning, ‘ I say to her. She ignores me. The one thing I hate about being a dog owner.
I walk up the path and marvel at the verdant beauty of a spot that was ugly and boring just weeks ago. The transformation is stunning. Now I feel like I’m walking through a bower from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’m doused with the smell of flowering shrubs and a choir of birds serenades me.
It puts me into a romantic, sentimental mood, like it’s the 1800’s and I understand the inspirations of the poets from the romantic era.
Nikita, on the other hand, is her normal inquisitive self and refuses to be hampered by her slow contemplative owner.
My roommate recently observed she must be part hippo.
I think she is just pure joy.
No matter what she is, I love her. I’d walk forever to fully capture this magical moment and escape my life, but now my alarm is ringing and since I have my phone in hands I can’t ignore it.
Today is supposed to be a productive day, bank appointments, books to write, office to clean and more.
So I’ll make do with the little taste of freedom I felt here, one that reminded me of other wild spaces, other times.
For now, just a taste. There will be more to come.