Last night I let Rico (the fur child) outside to do his duty. I usually have him on leash at night but he's been so good lately I let him out without clipping it on. My mistake. There must have been a rabbit or something at the edge of the woods because he took off like a speeding bullet after the critter. Most likely a rabbit finding tidbits under the pine trees behind the house.
After a few minutes of calling for him, I went in and got my boots and coat on to walk over to the woods and listen for him. Often I can hear him rustling through the woods, ignoring my requests to return. I walked to the edge of the woods and listened. I took a moment to stop worrying about the dog and admire the view. The moon was bright and cast indigo shadows on the light blue snow. It made me think of a poem by Robert Frost.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Rico did return about 20 minutes later with tail between legs and head held down low. His way of asking forgiveness rather than permission. Maybe he too was drawn to the woods lovely, dark and deep. Regardless, a promise I need to keep...to take a moment to clip on the leash.