brendan scott ( earth elemental ) . (liveandlearn) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-04-30 02:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-09-06, brendan |
going for a walk outside to see what i can find.
Who: Brendan and OPEN.
Where: Scarlet Oak Community Park.
When: Late afternoon.
It was such a nice day and their workload was so light at the moment that Ronnie had let Brendan and his fellow landscaper, Greg, leave a little early. Brendan had protested, insisting that he could stay if Ronnie needed the help, but the older man had held up a hand, fixed the younger with a level gaze, and said one word: "Go." After that, there was no insisting or arguing, and Brendan was on his way. As nice a guy as his employer was, there was no questioning his decisions. Honestly Brendan wouldn't dream of it, so far the older man hadn't given him any reason to do something like that and he strongly suspected that wouldn't change any time in the foreseeable future. After all, not everyone would hire an inexperienced agriculture major less than a year out of college. Brendan firmly believed that he owed Ronnie a great deal, and he wasn't about to disappoint him, certainly not this early into thing and most definitely not intentionally.
What else was there to do but wander around town? The park had quickly become a favourite place of his, and with nothing else to do with what was left of his afternoon -- he had picked up groceries the day before yesterday, his car had plenty of gas, there were no bills to sort, and his rent wasn't due again until the end of the month -- he had taken to roaming the full length. Every now and then he would pick a spot on a bench and watch a squirrel scurry up a tree, or a small child attempt an escape from a watchful parent, and more than once he saw a glossy-coated dog loping along, no doubt making its way back to its owner.
It wasn't until he caught sight of that same dog, with that distinct long black coat and slender build, so much like a Shepherd and yet not, that he thought perhaps it wasn't making its way back to its owner. From where he stood, having recently vacated a park bench to make room for a passing family whose little boy needed his shoelaces tied, again according to the impatient and frustrated mother, he couldn't see any sign of tags at the dog's throat, or even a collar of any kind. His eyes narrowed, and he scanned the surrounding area, listening for a summoning whistle or a shout of a pet's name. Brendan heard neither. When he turned his gaze back towards the spot where the dog had been standing -- had he been imagining it, or had the dog actually been staring at him? -- he was surprised to find nothing but an empty patch of grass.
Huh. Maybe he had been imagining it.