Driving through the hills, down a rippled ribbon of road, spied an odd animal in the distance. A small deer? But it was trotting, and up rather than across the road. Closer: oh, a dog. A hound. Stopped to collect the lost loner. Male. Muddy. Collar identified him as belonging to the local fox hounds. We'd seen the hunt chase across the farm on Thanksgiving Day. I'd seen the foot bassets some days earlier.
Traffic stopped in both directions. The hound trotted away, but eventually caved to entreaty. He was wary and not inclined to cooperate. But weary too, calm and ultimately docile. I led him to the car, mostly lifting him into the back seat. Nice dog: not heavy, but solid.
Just before we drove away, a man in pink coat, one of the whippers-in from the hunt I think, arrived on the scene. He whisked the hound, "Batman" away, leaving my muddy seats behind.
This is my bit of a blog. Rambling words about rambling days. No focus and nothing ambitious. I seem to write most about local color, nature, and animals, and there is an incomplete chunk about my road trips of 2011.
Post a Comment