Personal Essay Draft
I trekked through the forest, my
heart racing. It had been raining for about three days straight, but now the
sun was out, the trees were webbed with dew, creating a green and yellow canopy
against the sky above. Little puddles of mud, and grooves of Nike shoes had
made their territory in the trail, I avoided them and layed down my own little bootmarks.
The creek was glimmering yet hiding below the steep hill that held out the
ridge Poncho and I were treading. Across the river the same miniscule selection
of Cobbs Creek park conservation along the polluted river vein.
I hear a little voice, a faint weight,
my father's words, in my heart: do not go through this trail ever. But as
usual, I never listen. Either my own arrogance, I'm a brat, or I just don't
give a crap. The path is long, but not too long. Extensive enough to not be
able to see the end halfway through. So you never know what's waiting for you
Referring to Poncho as subject, not
ownership as always, a fairly sized, lean ivory blonde German Shepherd. Dead on
arrival usually by every idiot who ever had a wolf hybrid or dog fear.
Peacefully paws on in front of me. At this time in my life, I was pretty
clueless has to how much of my love enveloped him. We always had this gentle, innocent,
brother sister orb of trust and cooperation between us, that people never understood.
Ignorant folk will think that he his a savage wolf that will eat their babies
and tear their legs apart. Not that wolves are savage creatures at all, it’s
just the mere look in their eyes when they see Poncho and I walking by on the
parkway, you can definetly tell what they are thinking. German Shepherds are
territorial, yet friendly and have a family guardian mentality. In the case of
Poncho Buddy Jones, he has a weird fascination for tiny children, and basically
anything who’s height is at eye level or smaller than him. I can’t count all
the times I was absolutely embarassed and frightened when he would go darting
after another dog, or even a little child. I notice he would never ever hurt
them, he’d dart and then sniff and treat them gently. It took me a long time to
learn to just let him socialize with other dogs, and mammals, because I know I
cannot control him. But in this episode, luckily, we weren’t on the parkway, we
were in the trails, partly a reason I chose to go this way. Luckily?
We had reached the turning point of the
trails, the turning point being the halfway. The halfway, where you can’t look
and see all the way forward, and you can’t look and see all the way back. It’s
kinda steamy, I look across the other side of the creek, and my heart jolts. I
hear a creak, and crepid disturbance in the branches.
Poncho is unaware sniffing at some mud
imprints. I am on full alert. If this was a cartoon my hair would probably be
standing up in the air. If I had a tail it would be erect on my back. If I was a
cat my claws would be engaging in the soil for dear life, and my back arched
and frisked in some middle eastern pose to calibrate the flexibility.
And between the leaves hidden, behind
the bushes, almost painted, a white tail cocked on grey hind legs and hips. I
flashback. I remember another time where this must have happened before. I know
what it is. But I am not sure. I am still scared. My heart is still pulsing,and
my shaken instincts telling me to go back, as if to leave the building at the
peak of a terremoto.
A few more appear, unfortunately I can
only see their backs. The grey hind legs and the white whisping standing tails.
I turn around with, yanking gentled yet briskly on poncho’s leash, and we rush
back out of the trails and into the park.
I sit here now, and muse over a
previous time when this happened. It was about midday, it was past snow, and I
was going through the trails from the community center. It was my first time
doing this. But I remember seeing the same running hind legs, and I remember running
for my life. Petrified, thinking they were wolves.
But they were dear, and merely that.
Not wolves, and not dangerous. Harmonious creatures I’d say. And at that day,
going back home through the park, I realized I had merely nothing but a shadow
of fear created in me, to be fearful of.