"Robert Reed - Roxie" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

ROXIE
by Robert Reed

In “Roxie,” Robert Reed poignantly depicts the tragedy of death and
the wondrous gift of life. Commenting on the story, he tells us that,
“while my daughter is lobbying hard for a new dog, I have, so far,
resisted every urge.”

****

She wakes me at five minutes before five in the morning, coming
into the darkened bedroom with tags clinking and claws skating across
the old oak floor, and then she uses a soft whine that nobody else will
hear.

I sit up and pull myself to the end of the bed, dressing in long pants
and new walking shoes—the old shoes weren’t helping my balky arch
and Achilles—and then I stop at the bathroom before pulling a warm
jacket from the front closet. My dog keeps close track of my progress. In
her step and the big eyes is enthusiasm and single-minded focus. At the
side door, I tell her to sit and hold still please, and in the dark, I fasten the
steel pinch collar and six-foot leash around a neck that has grown
alarmingly thin.

Anymore our walks are pleasant, even peaceful events—no more
hard tugging or challenging other dogs. A little after five in the morning,
early in March, the world is black and quiet beneath a cold, clear sky.
Venus is brilliant, the moon cut thin. Crossing the empty four-lane road to
the park, we move south past the soccer field and then west, and then
south again on a narrow asphalt sidewalk. A hundred dogs pass this
ground daily. The city has leash laws, and I have always obeyed them.
But the clean-up laws are new, and only a fraction of the dog-walkers
carry plastic sacks and flashlights. Where my dog has pooped for thirteen
years, she poops now, and I kneel to stare at what she has done,
convincing myself that the stool is reasonably firm, if exceptionally
fragrant.

A good beginning to our day.

We continue south to a set of white wooden stairs. She doesn’t like
stairs anymore, but she climbs them easily enough. Then we come back
again on the wide bike path—a favorite stretch of hers. In the spring,
rabbits will nest in the mowed grass, and every year she will find one or
several little holes stuffed with tiny, half-formed bunnies.
 On this particular morning, nothing is caught and killed.

An older man and his German shepherd pass us on the sidewalk
below. Tony is a deep-voiced gentleman who usually waves from a
distance and chats when we’re close. He loves to see Roxie bounce about,
and she very much likes him. But in the darkness he doesn’t notice us,