A real pea-souper

21Aug10

Tucker woke me up extra-early this morning. He hasn’t been feeling quite himself since he munched on the lower half of a mummified squirrel during our walk yesterday morning. I keep a watchful eye for such contraband, but my eyes are no match for his nose in the pre-dawn darkness.

Anyway, he seems to be on the mend. But during his unscheduled pit stop at 4 a.m., I couldn’t help noticing the thick fog. I readied my gear and waited for dawn.

I distinctly remember the last time I saw fog this thick: It was in September of 1997, the morning on which Esteban and I were to leave on our first trip to Paris. I took our dog Arrow for a farewell spin along the golf course that’s up the street. The light was magical, like something out of a movie.

This morning was even better. There was a stillness that’s hard to describe. Sounds were muffled, as if we’d just had a heavy snow. Traffic was light. Tucker was rambunctious. I was in heaven.

We spent about an hour walking along the same golf course that Arrow and I used to traverse.

It was about then that we heard the first sharp “thwack.” Someone was teeing off. “Seriously?” I thought.

As it turned out, the course was closed. But that didn’t stop three diehards from practicing their swings.

“You’re hitting them as far as the eye can see!” I joked as I approached the three men on the driving range. They laughed. “Not too tough today,” one of them replied. Tucker made the rounds. I snapped a couple of shots. Everyone was happy.

Everyone was happy.



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