Dog Mountain

At sunset we go to the Pothier Monument in Precious Blood Cemetery on the Woonsocket-Blackstone line. As we walk, the city retreats, along with the day's stresses and worries. We sit on the granite steps. The columns and clouds create a Maxfield Parrish backdrop while the dogs chase the tennis balls that we throw off the hill. My dog Lily and her best friend Jake run themselves silly. It's best when we have two tennis balls for them to chase. I think it's jealousy that keeps them playing. Jake always tries to fit both balls in his mouth. The green tennis balls disappear in the grass, and then it's a puzzle for the humans to find the camouflaged balls. We always threaten to buy pink ones, but they cost more! Jake has a wide smile, extra long tongue, and steep forehead. His body is lean and he's an agile, focused acrobat. He's one of the most handsome black Labradors I've ever seen. Lily is a long muscular blonde who is occasionally disinterested in chasing the ball. But she's always ready to ambush Jake when he comes panting up the hill with the ball in his mouth. She'll bark and block him from reaching the top. If I had thirty Labradors, would I, like the dairymen and their cows, know every detail of each animal? It's a fantasy I like to entertain. For now, though, I'm focusing my energies on my students at the school - their crises and traumas, and the struggling to be poets, chefs, painters, and musicians. I retreat to Dog Mountain at the end of each day to unburden myself of their pain and wounds.