“We do not remember days, we remember Moments” –Cesare Pavese
On Sarrah’s last morning here, I freed her from the collar that she loathed and placed it on the head of my cement gargoyle that resides on a cedar stump in the backyard.
It remains an Evolving Contrast with a shining chrome chain becoming a halo of rust.
While mowing my lawn, for the last time this season, I was smiling and remembering many portions of different …days-gone-by
I am not sure whether it was quality time with me, decent weather or the smell of cut grass that Sarrah liked most. While mowing the lawn (after the first few scary experiences with the noisy mower) Sarrah enjoyed being a part of this chore. In the backyard she’d run alongside, and occasionally throw bones or toys in front of the mower to slow me down. She delighted in making me stop to move the obstacle and often then make a high speed pass running by with a huge smile. I would then throw this distraction and she would run to retrieve it. Sarrah would wait for a clump of grass carelessly dropped by the mower to land so she could grab it and trot around, head held high, like a little horse chewing on it. I can see her now, my green-footed little speckle job groaning, rolling and wriggling on her back, getting an aromatic back scratch from the newly cut lawn.