Flower.

Since it was a beautiful day outside, I thought I’d take my dog for a walk. She was a beautiful German shepherd, eight years old, and coming up on her ninth birthday in a few months. I gathered her harness and a few plastic bags in case she had to do the deed on our adventure. 

She knew what this meant, for her tail was already wagging and she was running laps between the kitchen and the living room. Back and forth, crashing into a different piece of furniture each time. 

“Calm down girl, I know you’re excited, but if you sit I’ll give you a treat before we go!” She sat promptly and even offered me a firm handshake. “Good girl! That deserves two treaties.” I unscrewed the lid to her pupperoni sticks and tossed her two. She leapt into the air with grace and caught one stick, but failed to grab the other and came crashing back down onto the floor. She was up in an instant though, grabbing the other treat and devouring them both. My clock struck 9am, dinging and donging for a moment. 

I hooked up her leash to the harness and strapped her in. I grabbed my wallet, cellphone and keys, in case of an emergency. Her silver fur reflected all the sun had to give. She was glowing. There was a crisp breeze and the smell of my neighbor Mike’s freshly cut grass. It was a tradition for him, cleaning up his yard on saturdays. 

We walked along, my old bones barely able to keep up with her spry movements. I decided that we would go to the park, it was a few blocks away, and it would give her some space to roam free. We cut through some alleys, and walked along Main Street until we reached the town square. We turned left there, and headed downtown, towards the park. 

Traffic was busy today, I got the occasional, “Awwh,” directed towards my pup, and even a young couple that asked if she was friendly and if they could pet her. 

“Of course, her name is Jessi,” I prompted them. 

She received a petting of a lifetime, before they continued on their way. She indulged in the moment, even laying down for them to rub her belly. 

She sprang to life again when they continued walking. It didn’t take much longer for us to get onto the road that led to the park. I could see it in the  distance and so could Jessi. Her pace crescendoed and soon she was in a jog. I tried my best to keep up with her but after just a few seconds of sprinting I was winded, I needed to slow down if I planned on getting her to the park.

We walked at a calm pace, until we reached the soft, green grass of the park. The rules were pretty lenient at the park, as there were never any issues. If your dog was off the leash, it better behave, or you’d have a small legion of legal team members knocking down your door. I unhooked her from her harness and watched her jog away, sniffing each and every tree as she went by.

I walked towards the nearest bench and collapsed into it, it’s old wood creaking underneath my weight.  She made her way over to a pavilion where some people were sitting. They seemed friendly enough and gave her some pets as she strolled through. One of them brought something to his lips, followed by a lighter which he flicked on, lighting it. 

The people sat in a circle, having moved the benches in the pavilion to meet their needs. They all looked young, at least from what I could see. 

The smell gave it away, it was not a cigarette. I didn’t mind though. The skunky smell permeated the air, finding it’s way to me. It reminded me of my best friend, Braxton. He was the one who originally gave me Jessi. He kept her sister, Kodak, and her mom, Kallie, he really liked the K’s. We hadn’t partaken in smoking any devil’s lettuce in many years, but we used to quite frequently. 

We would leave school and head to “the spot.” Every stoner has one. Ours was a similar spot to these young men. We hid it a little more carefully, if I do say so myself. Braxton’s family had a small gazebo on his land, far enough away from his house that no one could see. Despite this, we always checked and would make sure no one was watching. Every once and a while, we could convince some of our other friends to partake in it. Those were the best times. 

Once, we all got locked out of Braxtons house because his parents thought we had just left, but in reality we were smoking on their property. I don’t know if Braxton ever  got into trouble for that one, but most likely. 

Another time, our friend, pickle, nicknamed from Nick, mostly because I think it sort of rhymed, Pickel-Nick, if you will, fell asleep outside at 2:30 AM. Braxtons father found him when he left for work the next morning. We couldn’t Really contain ourselves. The laughter burst open from our blushing red cheeks. 

We did the best things with some of the worst outcomes ever. We once decided, at 1:41AM, to bake a pizza, because that’s what regular people do at 1:41AM on a school night. His parents were not happy. His father came downstairs around 2, I think, to use the restroom. He  smelled the pizza and waltzed into the living room to hear us laughing at things that made no sense. I doubt we would’ve even noticed him either, until he asked, “What’s that?” When we pulled the pizza out of the oven. Without missing a beat, even startled and buzzed, Braxton spat out the line of the century:

“It’s not delivery it’s Digiorno!” 

I wondered now, if Braxton’s father disliked me. It would make sense, his son and I did things most people wouldn’t dream of, for example, using his plungers as fencing swords. That was a fun game. If you got stuck with the plunger in the correct angle for it to make a “pop” you lost. ‘Stabbed’ essentially. With poop. But that’s what we found fun back in the day. 

The gazebo wasn’t the only place we did it though. We took endless joyrides. sparking a joint, rolling down the windows, and not really going anywhere. Just enjoying the moment. 

My memories cascaded over me for what seemed like an eternity, reminiscing over past friends, and just my time in general. It was good. I was happy. 

“Sir- sir, excuse me, is that your dog?” Asked a  boy, sitting next to me, who I did not notice until he spoke. He was a teenager, around the same age as the ones sitting at the pavilion. They weren’t even there anymore. 

“Yes, she is, apologies,I was daydreaming.”

“No problem, she’s a beautiful pup, what’s her name? 

“Jessi,” I responded. 

“Like I said, a beautiful pup, and she seems to be getting along with Rufus there.” She was indeed, an unknown dog was running around with her, a Jack Russel by the look of it. 

I checked my watch, “Oh good heavens, look at the time, we must be getting home. My watch read “3:21 PM.”  

“Come on, Jessi, let’s get home!” I called out to her, and she eagerly came. I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket. I dialed a number and heard it ring three times before someone answered. 

“Marcus, how are you buddy?” 

“Good Braxton, I was thinking, we should catch up next weekend!”

“Sounds good to me.” He hesitated for a moment, “ any chance you’d wanna hit up the old gazebo?” 

“I thought you’d never ask, old friend.”