A squirrel in the woods

 I groggily rubbed my eyes and pulled my earbuds out, for what was intended to be a quick break from my writing, maybe involving staring at a wall, getting another cup of coffee. But without the sound of the speakers blasting in my ears, a low whining interrupted my break. "Dang, Charlie!" How long had it been since I let my dog out? I ran to the door, opening it wide for him. 

Using the voice reserved for cute balls of fluff like Charlie, I called out, "Charlie? I'm so sorry baby, do you want to go outside."

Charlie barked, and I could see him wagging his tail excitedly at the front door. But...

I was at the back door. It was wide open. I sighed and clapped my hands, plots and characters and storylines pulling me back to my desk. "C'mon bud", I groaned. He whined by the front door and pawed the wall under his blue leash. I swear there should be a dent in the wall, or at least a smear, for the number of times he does that. 

"Oh, you want to go on a walk boy?". Charlie barked and wagged his tail against the door. There should be a dent in the door too. I stretched to grab the leash and clipped it to Charlie's collar. I swung the door open and he darted outside. I chuckled, but it died on my lips with a giant yank on the leash. Catapulted down the stairs by my crazy dog, you can add that to my ever increasing list of dumb ways I might die. 

"Charlie. Stop. Pulling!", I grunted. What was Charlie doing? I couldn't see him past the open door. Why, why does that door open outward? I should fix it. Why hadn't Charlie gone straight on for his walk?

"Charlie!," I screeched, or maybe it was a groan. I tugged with all my might. Is there a squirrel? I've heard dogs go crazy for squirrels. I considered letting go, the muscles in my hand feeling more than numb, more like rug burn, but then I considered the poor squirrel and tried to drag Charlie back into the house. 

Then I really did fall, but backwards, into the house and thankfully onto soft carpet. The leash yanked out of my hands and Charlie was off, now I could see him racing around the house. I gritted my teeth. If Charlie was so desperate to get to the backyard, why hadn't he GONE OUT THE BACK DOOR?. I ran after Charlie, groaning because of the pain radiating from my pelvis and anticipated lost dog posters. There probably was a squirrel, and Charlie had followed it into the woods behind my house. Grr. I turned the corner just in time to see Charlie rushing past the fenced in back yard and poof...disappearing into the woods. 

I followed the regular trail down into the woods, barely noticing the creek that ran back back into increasingly dense foliage and the old shack that had been a homeless man's abode countless years ago, now used for paintball wars between my neighbor's nephews, little hooligans. The row of giant concrete pipeline caps running parallel to neighborhoods beyond the trees, the backs of neighbors houses flitting between the gaps in the trees, all of that crossed my vision, and immediately slid out of it. I spend exactly one nanosecond thinking about what a beautiful day it was, and then back I was, full concentration, looking for a black blob in my vision. Where is Charlie? 

Crazy barking pealed out behind me, in the opposite direction, of course. I whirled around and sprinted for the opposite side of the trail. Please tell me he hadn't killed the squirrel, for the love of all good things, I do not want to have to clean squirrel brains off my dog. I thought longingly of my manuscript at home with the barking growing louder, bracing myself for the worst. Rounding a corner, veering off the trail into dense underbrush, I ducked into an opening perfect for a small child, but unfortunately, way too small for me. I rubbed my arms, now scratched, and tried to brush leaves and twigs out of my hair. I looked up just in time to see Charlie scrambling through an even smaller hole in the wall of dense undergrowth. This time I'm going through the hedge slower, dog or no. 

I inch through, expecting every minute for a branch to poke a hole in my eye. Stumbling out of the leafy tunnel, I shield my eyes. Wow, it's bright. My eyes adjust to find myself in a clearing that my house could fit into, all tall grass and blooming wild flowers surrounded by the waving leaves of trees, a green wall around an open space. Charlie barked again and ran into the middle of the clearing, circling a small object on the ground. Lunging forward I breathe a sigh of relief, the leash rests in my hand, and one giant, innocent looking dog sits at my feet, wagging his tail and now rolling in the grass. At least he didn't catch the squirrel. 

I sigh again and tug Charlie back towards the hole in the dense wall of undergrowth, finally I can get back to work. My fantastical story begins to consume my mind again, and then it doesn't. Charlie is sniffing my head. I must have tripped. Lifting my face out of the dirt, my gaze snaps to a small object on the ground. A teapot? Hey, I know this teapot, it has the same blue and purple designs and the gold outlining. Wait...that was my grandmother's, an antique, a one of a kind. How did it get here, in the middle of this clearing? No, it can't be. I know my new house is near my grandparents, in the same suburban area, but the chances of my backyard lining up so closely with theirs are very small. 

My head swells with a distant memory. Could this be the place? My mind builds trees in this forlorn open space, sets a small blanket on the ground near my feet, lifts my memories from the distant past: my Granna and I, laughing, gazing through the trees. Yep, this is the place. I can see vividly my sister and I, running through the woods. We were princesses, fairies, beautiful, fierce, adventuring in the wild. An imaginary world opening before our eyes, we ruled supreme. But even fairy-princess-adventurers needed rests, and we would tumble back onto the blanket, hair tangled with leaves and sticks. Granna would bring out the picnic basket full of goodies, and first to come out every time was the teapot, filled with some delightful drink- Kool-aid was our preferred tea flavor. Then we really were princesses, breakfasting on the palace lawns, and Granna was our queen. We would traipse on back to the house, and have to undergo showers, and the dreadful fight against the tangles that ensnared our hair. I chuckled recalling my dreadful wails against the dreaded hairbrush, and snapped back into the present. I had grown up since then, we all had. The two little girls became teens, school work was our priority then, college swept us away again. "How simple life had been," I thought with a sigh and a painful tugging in my chest. Granna had aged just like us, but I personally think she looks beautiful with her wrinkles and hair dusted with white, all kidding aside. 

I sigh, wishing beyond hope that I could see them now, but who knows if I'm infected? The most important thing is keeping them safe. I just wish the quarantine could end. 

I sink down into the grass, and suddenly the deep blue sky captivates me. I drink in the puffy white clouds and deep summer blue. When was the last time I slowed down and simply drank life in? I breathe deeply, reveling in the trees bending in the summer breeze, leaves rolling over and over in the wind like waves in a storm. I scratch Charlie's head, perhaps I don't have to head back to work right away, I have more important things to do now.