The Birds and the Beasts Were There

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It was the beginning of summer and I was approaching a corner in my life. I did not know that it was waiting for me, let alone that it would be of great significance; and when I turned it, there was no artillery salute, no bands played, no thunder rolled. The only sound was a quick, light tapping that seemed to be coming from the enclosed lanai on the lower floor. I was upstairs in the living room reading a book in an attempt to relax. My husband had left that morning on a trip to Mexico and I was already regretting my decision not to accompany him.

There was no one else in the house, yet the tapping continued. The dogs were lying beside my chair — not to indicate their devotion — so much as to make sure I didn’t go any place without them. Normally they barked at the drop of a decibel half a mile away, but they didn’t stir until I reminded them sharply that they were supposed to be watchdogs. Then, responding to my tone, they started tearing up and down the room in a loud and disorganized demonstration of watch doggedness. By the time they stopped, so had the tapping.

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