Loving Hand, Burning Sand

Oh glory! Awake, awake, said someone in my ear. Then the voice disappeared and it was a warmer day out. This was not this morning, just to let you know. It was yesterday when it all happened, and it was a warmer day out.

I know. I said my resolution was to return to this blog with more vigor. But it is hard to be vigorous when you can't feel your arms or legs! That's how cold it's been. The arctic has a hand. The hand usually covers the arctic's head. But the hand has come down, down, down, has reached for places it hasn't reached for in a long time. The door handles are so cold. Our neighbor's pipes burst. Dad says it's so cold he can feel the grain of his heart. He can be so poetic sometimes. But I wonder if this is something serious. Something I should be worried about. I think of a heart being sanded. Sanded down and down.

I got on my bike and I started to ride and I never felt so good I couldn't believe it was real. There I went, around town, because I could without gloves and without a scarf. It was a small miracle. Well, the miracle got better as miracles often do. Praise be. The Doggie Daycare was giving a class outside and the dogs, all sorts--all shapes and sizes--were outside with their owners. I rode by and a man said, "Wait!" I stopped and waited.

These dogs had behavioral issues. They were troublemakers. Each one of them had done something bad to someone's hand in the past. One had even done something bad to someone's rear end. He asked me what I did. I said, "I make butter," even though it wasn't what I really do, do as in making a living, but it is something I love to do, to make butter makes my heart sing. The grain of my heart sings. The particles come flying off, sanded, and they sing. So he asked if I'd like to make some "fast cash." I said, "Yes, fast cash." He asked if I'd ride by the dogs on my bike. "Sure," I said. "I'd love."

That's what I did. I rode by like I was in a parade. Back and forth. I could have gone on like that forever. The dogs lunged. Their owner's arms grew straight and frenzied like swatting baseball bats. The dogs barked and dug their claws into the sidewalk. Doggie Daycare was alive and I was its pulse! "Curt," I thought. "You are a pulse! You are a winner!" And I was. I imagined I was in a bike race. I won each time I passed by the dogs.

Afterwards, I was given Gatorade. When I got off my bike, the dogs must have thought I was an angel. How well behaved they were. A woman introduced herself as "Monica." I liked that name very much and told her. "It has three syllables, and I don't meet many people with three syllable names." She thought about it for a long time and then she introduced her dogs. "This is Loving Hand and this is Burning Sand." What great names!

Fast cash is what I made. I must have rode my bike past those dogs at least ten times. And I made 20 dollars. "Come back," the man said. His name was John. When I rode away, I thought I could hear everyone say, "Come back, come back, Curt." But when I turned around, the Doggie Daycare was there without anyone outside it.

Da-thump da-thump.