It’s continued to be hot here, as I think is the case in much of the country. The house has its pockets of warm and cool, the cool spots being places like the kitchen and one of the bathrooms we normally don’t spend a lot of time in. Amanda’s home office has two sides that are sun-facing, making it unbearable for her in the afternoons. Our favorite hanging-out space is the living room, which remains cool enough in the mornings when we don’t use it, but collects heat later in the day and evening when we normally enjoy it most. We now take our wine out on the patio in the late afternoons, which too is hot then but out of the sun’s angle and likely to have the benefit of a breeze.
This week Amanda has taken to walking me on a leash in the early mornings when it’s coolest out. She takes the front road, in view of our neighbors, most of whom now know what I am, and look upon me either with wonder or pity. Or both. Thankfully, she kept me dressed top and bottom, and although my sun dress was short, it covered me just enough to keep me legal.
We ran into our neighbor from a previous tea time, Mr. Hawkins, who was on his bike for an early ride. We talked for a while, and he made no particular comment about my being leashed.
Later, when Amanda continued walking me, she said, “That was good — he knows what your place is and accepts you in it.”
My mind wandered to the phrase, “It takes a village,” and I mused that perhaps the whole neighborhood will at some point partner in executing my slavery. A story idea anyway…
Amanda said she wished she had made me topless for our walk. “Hawkins could have handled it.”
I made a crack about not being sure I wanted him to handle anything.
Amanda tugged hard on the leash, jerking my collar. But she laughed.