What I See, part 4, by Karen Joy Fowler
Brief observations from this morning as I resumed my coastal walk:
Red-winged blackbirds thick on a small patch of pampas grass. I wonder why birds, which after all combine the best parts of dinosaurs and of fairies, tend to have such utilitarian names.
Fewer sightings of feral cats in the park. The weather is cold and rainy, presumably they are all gone to ground and piled in a heap somewhere. Fewer sightings of people, too—same presumptions.
Along my route, between the water and the multi-million dollar homes, is a bench the perfect height for various stretchings. I stop walking and exercise there. This used to concern Mojito and I’d have to do my down-face dogs down-face over an actual dog. Now she sits quietly to the side and contemplates the sea. I suspect that the owners of these houses, when they bought their ocean view, did not imagine me and my sun salutations. Value added!
The dog beach was entirely covered with water. I had to take MJ down both flights of stairs to the water’s edge before she’d believe me. She suffered through the rest of her walk. I noticed today that more people say hello to MJ as we pass than say hello to me. No matter how sulky she is.