It Should Be This Easy

Early this morning, I took T.T. Marie out to Riverside, Iowa for a veterinary appointment with Dr. Greg. My little dog family was destined for this clinic, located in the namesake birthplace of Captain Kirk, legendary starship captain. Our draw to this location was only hastened by the fact that Dr. Greg calls his practice: St. Francis Veterinary Clinic, and hosts an image of this patron saint, on his calling card. It is always with great delight that I pull up to view this saint in person, a welcoming figure placed in a garden location that blooms spectacular during the summer months.
When Monk Marie was a puppy, he had his 'operation' here. That was some three and a half years ago. Who says dogs can't remember? Not me. However, this was a lesson learned. Sometime after the notorius 'operation,' that being the passing of two years, I returned to the clinic to buy a woodtick preventative. (I have just bent over to remind Monk Marie in a loud voice: THIS WAS A SHOPPING TRIP, not a health check-up.) Before entering the clinic, I had made my mistake. I left the windows of the car open. After all, it was summer. I was just popping in, and would be quickly popping out. It was a quick purchase and when I returned to the van, discovered no Monk. This clinic is bound by a fierce four lane highway, and an equally busy intersecting artery, the rest to be found in corn fields. Sure that the dog was somewhere in the yard of the business, I toured the building. It was only when I was in a desolute corner of the back lot that I looked up at the four lane. Running down the middle, and against traffic was my dog. Pointed north, on a south bound lane, Monk Marie was high-tailing it home. My definition of 'home' quickly evolved to the synonym 'heaven.' If someone nearby had a hand-held camera, and if we all had YouTube, the following hour of chasing Monk down a freeway could be embraced fully, without writing another word. Let me just say, having a patron saint attached to veterinary clinic is not a bad idea. And you don't have to worry if on today's trip, I had the windows of the van rolled up.

This morning I revisited the memory of witnessing primal fear. It was with a micro-step that I went to the location of that sliver, in my subconscious. It was with a laugh that I said to myself: Take the lesson. Jump from the car, get a compass bearing, and run like hell.

It should be this easy.