The People Behind My Eyes

It looks like a plague rolled through here, like God sent his wrath on this little stretch of Indiana with a vengenence that faded to a slight irritation. The cicadas have eaten just about everything we planted, what they didnt eat Captain has helped himself to. It is funny to watch him look for my eye to divert so he can snatch what’s left of the strawberry patch or what’s left hanging on the white grape vines. He does it ever so genergly, one by one, chews quickly then moves along, waits for my eye to divert then repeats the process until I toss a ball that he instinctively follows. I have never known a dog to love berries the way he does. Barney told me how when he was a kid he picked cherries but that one went in the bucket and the other went in his mouth. He and his brothers ate most of the produce before it ever hit the market. They sat in the back of the truck eating freshly picked mangos, the green or the red. By the end of the night they had a belly full of cherries and mangos wich lead to a belly full of rumble and a very busy restroom. He laughes as he tells me this as if it was all worth it. I suppose it was because he did it often as does Captain. He doesn’t seem to mind the tummy rummbling as long as he gets the sweet taste of freshly pilfered grapes and sweet ripe strawberries.

I’ve never seen anyone revel in stolen goods the way this boy does. After his crime spree he rolls on his back in the grass then stops with his belly to the sun almost as an offering of thanks. When I call him to come home he comes with a tired yet happy trot and plops on the floor for a long nap. Life should always be this good.

Austin’s August