Somehow, he knows it’s time, and I never cease to marvel at this. He has an abundance of nervous energy these days, as if some internal voice is saying, “I know I’m supposed to be doing more than hanging out on the porch right now. Let’s go.”
We give ourselves over to these biorhythmic pulses, he and I, and the rest of our tribe. Though maybe some of us are just more susceptible to it than others, or embrace giving outlet to it more willingly. Or maybe we’re just lucky enough to know what outlets we truly need – something that some sadly never figure out and find all manner of displacement for.
Regardless, it is time, and with the dead of winter still feeling far, far away, life swells with new focus and purpose and less important things, like jobs and too many other responsibilities, must be shoved aside, in exchange for the preservation of our souls.
Somehow, he knows it’s time, and I never cease to marvel at this.
6 thoughts on “Somehow he knows”
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Of course they know.
We foolishly call summer the “dog days”. When summer’s brutal furnace finally abates, that’s the beginning of the real dog days.
Nice Bruce… just got back from hunting sharpies in southern Idaho…. had to leave an injured pup at home… she knew where I was going and gave my wife hell…. my older dog knew the routine and handled the 12 hour drive well. P.S. sneak up to Lewiston.. birds did well!
I’m coming back as a gun dog in my next life. Living by the waxing and waning of seasons as opposed to the misery of the time clock seems like the way to go. Good luck afield.
If you come back as a gun dog, Steve, let me know – I’ll adopt you.
Just don’t come back as a flusher. ; )
Hankus is lookin’ real nice. Scubby is whistling in the background.