During the night, the cold November winds had swept over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, sliding down the eastern slopes and marching across the valley floor. They were more mischievous than damaging. Glancing out the French Doors that framed the expanse of our yard, I noticed that the yard was now decorated with broken branches and debris.
With a heavy sigh, I left the warm embrace of the house to pick up after mother nature. While I was outside I would undertake the least favored duty of a dog owner and pick up after our four dogs as well. I often found it comforting that my dogs would keep me company during this duty. Tasha, Willa and Taz would meander around the yard lending me moral support. Moe would prance around the yard, executing vigorous inspections in various areas to ensure the task was completed to his high standards.
As I methodically crisscrossed the yard, a rustling noise off to my right drew my attention. I looked up catching sight of Moe as he was thrusting his head into an empty dog food bag, one of the winds contribution to our lawn decorations. Concerned about Moe’s food allergies and what he might find in this abandoned item, I sternly said his name, hoping to distract him from his mission. Startled Moe planted his feet and lifted his head, like a deer sniffing the air to detect the presence of danger. I stared at him. The food bag stared back. I struggled not to laugh at Moe’s predicament. The food bag continued to stare me down. I took a few steps forward. Moe panicked. The flight reflex kicked in and he bolted. Head down he took two strides into the wooden fence that enclosed the yard. The bag flew in one direction. Unhurt, Moe reeled in confusion. Unhinged, I reeled in laughter.
If I had been 30 years younger, I would have had an iPhone and I’m sure the ensuing video would have trended on YouTube. But alas I was not younger. The only video I have is the one I replay over and over in my mind. I shake with laughter at the antics of my slapstick king every time.