Back in the saddle again.

Maybe a little less lucid than sometimes. Pain pills and their support staff of diuretics . The last few days have been an exploration of what this body of mine will do with this particular cure. This treatment. Which is not a poison. It is not what you would think of even as a good old fashion toxin. It is more subtle and graceful. I had never appreciated it before. It works on levels i barely believe in. DNA. It is a disruptor of mitosis. Do not grow anew. Do not refresh. Surrender. Let go this urge to live.

The conundrum of cancer again. The cells seeking life. Dividing with vitality and seeking to populate the body with themselves. But they have lost their way. Lost the plan. Unchecked growth. Deregulation. Rampant colonialism. I imagine them wild with fear, running over the plains and valleys of my body.

My chemo woke me at 6am this morning. It always wants action early. How can you ignore this day? So I showered and saddled the dog in her special purple harness and drug her up 60th ave. She doesn’t have chemo and doesn’t always understand the need to move early.

On our way back I break into an awareness that the tick tick tick sound getting louder is most likely a very large, very fast dog bearing down my back with thankfully overgrown toenails. So i did, what is now, sadly, a muscle memory instinct. I simultaneously pull up on the leash and swing my body out so Tuley launches into the air in a swift arc. As she become airborne the brown blur of the (shepard mix) dog glides underneath.

The hard part of this maneuver is catching her after she’s airborne. I always wonder if she in any way appreciates the necessity of this. For some reason many dogs regard her as close kin to a groundhog. Or at least something god gave for eating. This dog has a collar but no tags. And looks as if someone has overestimated his loyalty to them.

So now the dog is barking and lunging and trying to get a taste of Tuley but is maybe a little afraid of me. And he follows and barks and dances at me when i try to walk away. I don’t like him at my back.

Then I am angry. So I turn around and pursue the dog. Throw a tin can at it from someone’s recycling bin. He dances away and then back. Hackles raised.

Then I want to kill the dog. This random bully from someone’s careless life. I want to do at least some small damage to this animal. Would relish my hands on him if i could. I lock the plastic retractable leash and begin to swing the handle out like a really wimpy blue ribbon medieval chain mace. He dodges every time i bring my arm back.

One part of my mind is aware that I am wanting to kill more than just this dog. This marauder from someone stupid’s yard. A directionless dog looking for some fun. And it found me. And I want to kill him for his trouble. And the dog is hiding behind a bush in someone’s yard and I am wondering if I can justify damaging someone’s landscaping in pursuit of my tormentor.

But then a garbage truck comes down the street. I raise my arm and ask him to call animal control. He says how bout I give you a ride? So me and Tuley (who sits on the big middle console like she’s always been a garbage truck dog) ride away from the bully. Saved by a Rose City Sanitation man smoking a cigarette.

And I think that’s a fine ending to a story.