The newly mown yard is cool on my tummy. The pleasing scent of the fresh clippings entertains my nose. Stretched out before me, my paws (slightly green) sink through the short blades of grass and contact the earth beneath, still slightly damp from an onslaught of rain that is with every passing moment becoming a fading memory.
Above, the sky is an endless blue mystery punctuated occasionally with small harmless puffs of cloud. It is limitless and omniscient, yet comforting. The sun is just rounding the peaks of the neighbouring rooftop. Its welcome warmth is obvious and it is perfectly angled, causing neither impenetrable shadows nor squinting glare.
My eyes are pleasantly occupied in the tracking of varied butterflies and sparrows, spared from my fearsome charge (if only for the moment) while I allow myself the simple pleasure of recline. The industrious putter and whine of several neighbourhood mowers and string trimmers create an agreeable soundtrack to my relaxation.
I am overcome with a singular sense of gratitude for just – being. Happy Fathers’ Day, Dad; wherever you are.
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