That dog at the corner. I always forget he is there, just about eye level, waiting to bark right into my ear, scaring the pants off me every time. Today as I started off on my walk, for once I remembered he would be there and I picked up a branch left by the crew who had just pruned the plane trees. I had the branch ready to give him a whack on the nose, my arm raised ready to deliver the blow, but to my surprise it was not him this time but his blonde owner, working at the flower bed. Needless to say she had quite a fright, and I could only sputter an apology as I dropped the stick and tried to explain myself.
This excerpt is from a collection of files Patrick called Scattered Notes.odt dated from 2014 to 2016. I’ll continue to add other segments as time allows.
Patrick Meadows 1934 – 2017.