A few days ago, I was up early, as usual. I had my cup of coffee in hand and was sitting on the couch, enjoying the fact that no one else had yet risen; the sun was just lighting the yard, and the birds were singing joyfully. This was a very rare moment for me since the day that Catherine and Liam took up residence here. Mornings have often become the most chaotic, but also the happiest, part of my day. This particular morning was cooler, so I had my robe on over my jammies, enjoying the comfort of being curled up on the couch, ready to say my morning prayers.
As I lifted my mug to my lips to drink in the warm, roasted elixir, I stopped in mid-pucker, the cup suspended only centimeters from my lips, and I froze. There, through our large picture window, I saw a lummox of a Golden Retriever galloping up my front yard. In mere nanoseconds, my mind raced, flashing thoughts and pictures through it as I realized that some of my cats were outside. They had been fed their breakfast, and were now searching for a place to lounge amidst the flora and fauna.
In those nanoseconds, that dog stopped and peered into my window where we locked eyes, and I guess I thought that if I didn't move, he wouldn't either. I narrowed my eyes and began to whisper, "Why you little....." Too late. He was off and the chase had begun. I dropped the mug onto the coffee table, leapt over it like an Olympic champion, and flung the door open wide. I saw nothing, nothing at all but the streak of gold in front of me as I ran down the street, through front yards, dodging sprinklers, leaping over hedges and stomping through mulch. But, almost as quickly as the race began, it was over, even though it felt like I had run the entire Boston Maraton.
I rounded the corner of a house, leapt over a sandbox that seemed to jump into my path, and the dog disappeared. Frantic, I was now running through back yards, calling to my cats. As I ran, looking to and fro, two of them galloped past me, tails straight up, and raced home. The other one decided to run alongside me until I tripped on a hose, frightening him, and he also passed me up. The last two of my five had remained in the kitchen, acting as cleanup crew, licking their dishes clean, savoring their own quiet time.
I slowed to a walk as I neared home, face sweaty, hair nappy and bathrobe somewhere down the street, (which I would retrieve only after counting cats). As I glanced over my shoulder, my neighbor was standing in his kitchen, at the sliding glass door, holding his own mug of morning brew, smiling and waving. Breathless, I managed a smile and a half-hearted wave and quickened my step again until we were all safely back in the kitchen.
By then, the day had begun, the house astir with the rest of the family, and, after a head count, I quietly slipped back out front, ran down the street, grabbed my robe and returned home to shower.
Copyright liamsgrandma 2008
