Late August

October still seems a long ways off. Hot muggy weather makes each day pass slowly. Maggie, our youngest wirehair, spends much of each day in a cool depression dug into the earth beneath the deck. Colby, our older wire, doesn’t seem to mind the heat at all and sleeps in the driveway.

The best parts of each day are the cool hours in the morning before the sun climbs high and as the heat fades when the late sun disappears over the distant hills.

After dinner each day, we walk the hundred yards from our home to the vegetable garden to see how things have progressed. The dogs love the routine and Maggie usually runs big sweeps around the field, as if on patrol, while Colby will stay back near the house, as if guarding it in our absence. It is a routine we all enjoy. Lately, apples dropped from a wild tree have been tossed for retrieving.

But tonight, as Maggie trotted along the edge of the field, she was jerked to a stop as if tethered to a snubbed leash. I hurried over and walked into the woods ahead of her point. A woodcock tweetered upward and away thirty feet beyond her nose.

Isn’t life grand?