Friday, February 18, 2011

Mekka: Rainy Day Blues

"Her dark brows raised to accomodate the upward lift of her eyes as they watched my progress."

It had been raining for two days straight. The world outside the window of my little house was painted gray. Clouds hung close to the earth, heavy with their burden of yet unspilt precipitation. The west Texas streets, having not been built with monsoons in mind, had turned to canals.

That morning I had made the best of being trapped indoors by painting the walls of my kitchen a warm shade of green. Several windows were cracked for ventilation and the sweet must of rain rode in on a breeze. Mekka lay on her bed in the living room with her head resting on her front paws. Her dark brows raised to accomodate the upward lift of her eyes as they watched my progress.

When I finished, I cleaned my brush, tapped on the lid of the paint can, and then stood with hands on hips and looked out at the water that meandered down my street. Clumps of debris had caused sporadic eddies to form and the combination of dirt and dark asphalt underneath gave the pseudo river a mucky brown hue. I looked over my shoulder at my dog and she popped up as if I had called her name. It was long past time that we did something outside of the house and she had been waiting on any indication that I was ready to do so.

I laughed at her as she did an excited dance over to me, soft woofs punctuating her lithe, snake-like moves. Bending over, I roughed the hair on her shoulders and she swiped my chin with a quick kiss.

"You want to go out Mekka?? Wanna play in the rain??"

Yes, yes!! I thought you'd never ask!!

Her eyes sparkled and she bounced up and down on her front feet in excitement.

We walked down the entry hall and I opened the heavy inner door. We both gazed out of the storm door at the streams of water, one winding up the road and and one pouring from the sky. Our breath making two foggy circles on the glass.

"You ready??"

A great plumed tail waved wildly in answer.

I punched the lever and together, as girl and dog, we burst over the threshold and into the rain. We raced about erraticly, both of us enjoying the reprieve from the house that had been our prison for two days and the cool sensation of water splashing up, over, around and down onto our bodies.

Mekka whizzed past me as I stood in the middle of the river-street and let out hoots of encouragement. Her rear end was tucked up underneath her in a flat out pig run and water exploded up in the air from the force of her churning feet.

An attempt to goose Mekka as she ran by resulted in a scramble as the flimsy plastic of my flip flop popped and gave way. I lost traction and landed with a splash on my backside in the murky water. Sitting up, I raked sodden hair from my face just as something hit my chest with enough force to knock me back down. Shock gave way to laughter as I found myself being mauled with love by my soggy dog.

I wrapped my arms around Mekka's great neck and hugged her to me. The joy on her face was a reflection of my own.

Always a water dog. . .in a lake on a trip to Santa Fe.

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