At Night In California

At night in California, I can hear the sprinklers clack-clack-clack across the yard. The water clacks as it hits the tree trunk, the grass, and the fire hydrant. It clack-clacks back into place and starts around again. Even though the timer goes off every night, my first reaction is to think it is my old dog, Scout, scruffling around the bushes. When the sprinkler hits the stop sign and the clack transforms to a patter I remember its just water but not before I've remembered everything about Scout.

He was a beautiful dog, everyone always agreed. Sweet, too, with big velvet ears and a really cold wet nose. He would always sit his nose on my knee when he wanted to play and he would always jump up on the couch and shove himself between Rob and I on the loveseat in a little ball as if he were a cat.

We had cats too and lots of animals always roaming the housing thinking they were dogs or birds. We even had a bird once that thought he was a dog.

Pets are amazing animals, being both animal and human, knowing thoughts and actions of mine whilst scruffling in bushes. He knows that pajamas mean bedtime and shoes mean out.

Scout is gone. Almost two years ago I said goodbye to him on the floor of Northbrook Animal Clinic. We had to put him down because of his agressive behavior towards strange men. My mom knows he was just protecting us but she also knows that we live in the Village of Northbrook where protection is left to the Northbrook Police Department.

Scout died with his purple collar on. Purple accented his brown coat so well and it brought out his eyes. I have never loved an animal so much.