The Molly Chronicles - Jury Duty

Jury Duty – Day 1

As I said yesterday, my human and I have been summoned for jury duty. I’m pleased and humbled – and just thrilled with the prospect of serving. As you know Border Collies have a great sense of duty and a work ethic second to no man or beast.

We appeared Wednesday morning, and had to pass through a metal detector. The sheriffs at the door normally wouldn’t let a dog into the building, but they could tell at once what a noble animal I am; so they let me in, no questions asked.

I must state for the record that I understand their “no dogs in the courthouse” policy. Can you imagine the trouble Astro would cause if he were ever allowed inside? He’d chew up everything from the attorney’s briefs to the briefs that the defendants were wearing. And he’d probably bark and he'd slobber all over everyone’s faces.

As for Buddy, he’d just lift his leg and pee on the judge. 

The Molly Chronicles - Jury Duty

My human and I got summoned for jury duty, and we got assigned to a case. The judge, who is a wise and kind human, asked us not to talk about the trial until it’s over, and I have to respect her wishes. After the trial, I plan to blog about my impression of the human’s justice system. I can tell you this much, however. They don’t hand out Beggin’ Strips or rawhide chews in the courtroom, and you aren’t allowed to pee on the metal detectors.

Molly, signing off.

Fear

Sometimes fear sneaks up on me. Silent like a hawk, swooping down on it prize. I don't want to be the prize.  One minute the sun's bright; I'm bright; I'm smiling, talking. And suddenly out of nowhere I'm stopped, frozen.  My throat chokes and the stupidest drivel comes pouring out of my mouth. Later comes the fallout. "I should have said..." "Why didn't I..." "What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn't thinking at all." And the moment's gone. And it's a magical moment, a time when something important could have happened, an opportunity to be seized.

And sometimes fear is a block of grey ice, a dungeon, a straight jacket. Sometimes it's a well I fall into and can't climb out of. The world's up there, mine for the grabbing, and I can't climb up the steep sides.

Sometimes I'm a turtle snug in my shell. 

Mating

Birds in springtime remind me of being seventeen.
The females don't admit to paying any attention to the males. They stroll nonchallantly through the backyard, stoppping occasionally to peck at a bug.
But the males strut.Their wings outstretched they highstep in front of their paramours. "Look at me". (the females don't look) "I'm so cool and studly." They puff out their chests till it looks like they'll explode.
Then the boys take off into the blue, circle a bit, and land, by the strangest of coinsidences, right in front of their bored-looking girlfriends.
This courtship rite gets repeated over and over. She'll never notice him. He's doomed. He'll die alone, a frustrated shell of a pidgeon. That's what it looks like.
And then and then, and then.
They fly off in a chirp, chase each other through the maple branches, and finally land in the plum tree. She's still and he grabs his moment. Wings and feathers flutter, a quick twitter and cheep, and it's all over.
There will be fledglings this year.
Not so different from human teenagers.

The Molly Chroicles - Molly's Great Success

What a tremendous experience! I'm stoked, elated, thrilled, wagging my tail to bits. It happened out in my garden. My human said, "Molly, go backyard," and of course, being a border collie I did just that. She pointed to the right, and, straight as an arrow, faster than a speeding I bullet, I ran for the fence. More powerful than a locomotive, my mighty jaw snapped, and the gopher was history. I looked up pleased with my prey in my mouth.
My human said, "good job, Molly," and gave me meatballs and the last of the ice cream and a nice marrow bone to chew on, but she threw the best part, the gopher, into the garbage while I was eating a meatball. Humans have no sense of gourmet dining.

Molly signing off.

No. Begin Now

I just wrote this:

“Another bad dream?” Sandy asked.

She nodded.

“Tell me about it.”

She shivered and hugged her arms across her chest. “Not yet. Just one more day.”

Sandy gazed at her intently. Outside a cricket chirped twice and somewhere a motor hummed in the distance. “No,” he said.

She hugged her arms tighter around her chest. Her eyes grew wide in horror.

“No.” He met her gaze. “This is too important.”

He spoke very slowly, and his words gained power with each breath.  “No. Your spirit now resides in a lonely hollow. You can’t see water, or mountains or sunsets.  Laughter doesn’t touch you. There is no beauty, no love. Those things that nourish our souls don’t touch you.” 

"You are the hunted, the prey, the food of every , boogie man, goblin, and and evil spirit that haunts the human mind. With each day, the hollow deepens.And the boogie man's grip grows stronger on your heart. Each day your spirit dies a little."

How could he know this? He spoke the truths that she wouldn’t admit even to herself.

 “No. Your spirit is important. It is too precious. There's too much at stake.”

He touched her shoulder, his touch strong and gentle at the same time.

“Don’t worry. You’re strong, stronger than you know. Your spirit will triumph, and you’ll laugh and love again. Your work on the earth isn’t done yet.”

“It will take me about five minutes to gather some things. While I do that you can prepare your thoughts. Then we’ll begin.”

Sandy's a Shaman. 

I need a Sandy in my life. - someone to say, "No. Begin now."

Write a Letter

Here's my two cents' worth for today. Write a letter to someone who lives far away from you. Keep the ties of friendship strong.

I'm not good at writing letters. But when I do it I feel so great.