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| My 'hood in Arlington, Texas |
I'm got a thing going on with a girl named Mabel.
She's beautiful, black, and very well-groomed. Most days, she's sporting a stylish kerchief around her neck. We live on the same street, and meet in the evenings, as the sun is setting and the temperatures are cooling. I go out for a walk and stroll by her place; she sees me and comes out... so we can share some private time together before she quietly goes back inside her home.
Mabel is a beautiful black lab who lives around the corner from me, in what we long-timers in our neighborhood call the "Taco Bell House." In actuality, the Taco Bell House looks nothing like a Taco Bell restaurant, but it does have a red roof made of those undulating tiles, and it has stucco walls, in contrast to all of our brick homes. The Taco Bell House features a courtyard with a vine-covered archway opening to a fenced-in dog run that parallels our street. And that is Mabel's domain.
Mabel's courtyard is mostly walled by sliding-glass doors, so from several rooms inside her home, Mabel can see who's passing by outside. Her owners have built a little doggy-door into one of the glass doors, so she's free to go in and out whenever she feels like it. At various times, as I've been talking to her owners, lounging in their courtyard, I've witnessed Mabel making loop after loop through an open human-sized door, and her doggy door. Around and around. It's as if she's afraid she might miss something interesting inside while she's outside, and vice-versa.
This summer, I guess Mabel has learned that I usually take a walk in the evenings, and she's started to watch for me from inside her Taco Bell House. Last night, as has become our custom, I walked by the fence along her dog run, next to the courtyard with the arched entryway, and a familiar pattern played itself out yet again.
I'll hear the quiet flapping noise of Mabel's doggy door after I've passed, and as I continue walking along, with my back to the Taco Bell House, I'll hear a muffled bark and a moan from Mabel. I turn around, and there she is - standing up against the fence, looking at me, with her soft, black eyes and floppy, fuzzy ears, waiting for me to turn around and return to her.
For all I know, she may do that with anybody who walks by, and we have a lot of people who walk for exercise in our leafy neighborhood. Yet I've seen other neighbors walk by Mabel's home, and she never comes out to greet them. So I like to think I've got a little something special happening with her.
And she knows I can't resist her. Yes, I turn back around and stroll over to Mabel, whose seems to be begging for some attention, since she wants me to think her owners don't give her any... which I know is a lie on Mabel's part... but I let her think I haven't caught on to her little ploy. Some people say a dab of deception is good for a relationship. I don't know about that, but I know that it gets Mabel what she wants. I reach through the wrought-iron fence and scratch behind her ears, rub her head, stroke her neck, and pat her on her back. I talk to her and tell her how beautiful she is. It's all an ego trip for her, of course - we both know that - and she drinks it up. And then, after a short while, she backs away. Her ego has been well and truly restored. Without a sound, she turns around to head back inside.
I realize that these secret meetings of ours probably aren't the best basis for a long-term relationship. But we seem to have had little problems with the racial thing; her being black, and me being white. Even the species thing hasn't been much of a problem. And there's little commitment involved, which works well for both of us.
Although... I've begun to worry a little bit about what will happen to our relationship this fall, when our human clocks get set back an hour, and the sun sets so early. My walks will be in the dark, so will Mabel be able to see me? Will she be looking for me before the sun sets, which will then be a couple of hours before my walk? I hope she won't be devastated if she doesn't see me. Or... will she forget all about me?
At least I can find some solace in the fact that the two of us will have had the Summer of '17.
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Update - March 5, 2019: Yes, during the two dark winters that have passed since Mabel and I began our little thing, there were times when I'd walk by in the darkness, and Mabel happened to see me, and she'd come out of her little doggie door so we could steal some quality time together.
Or, so, that's how it seemed to me.
The other day, however, I was talking with Mabel's human mommy, and my bubble was burst. It seems that Mabel goes out to greet EVERYBODY who walks by, whether she knows them or not. And we have a lot of folks in our neighborhood who walk, and they carry doggie treats with them for furry friends like Mabel. They've asked Mabel's parents for permission to give her the treats, and they feed them to Mabel through their wrought-iron fence.
When I learned that, I realized Mabel comes out to greet me, not because she has a special affection for me, but because I'm just another humanoid passing by who probably has a treat for her... that's why she eagerly sticks her nose through the fence. And when I never provide one, after about a minute, Mabel cuts her losses and goes back inside.
And here I thought we had a thing going on!
Actually, while learning the truth is hard, frankly, it fits more with the way my life's experiences with romance have gone. Perhaps I guess I expected a different result from "man's best friend."
Oh well - at least Mabel keeps giving me a chance, right?
