sumac

my heart is still racing, having just had a big scare. carver and i had just returned from a good walk, to the wild flower meadow and back. carver was in good spirits, and full of energy, his digestion just returning to normal after a few days of being sick. the field is dotted with sumac, long feather branches glowing crimson in the gray light. the tall grass has been battered down in spots, in every direction, looking like churned up water. I sat on the porch smoking when we got back, carver laying on the door mat, barking at every passer by. we came in, my voice light with the promise of supper, when carver, hopping at the anticipation of food, slid on an patch of wood floor, twisting his remaining front foot. he went down to the floor with a high pitched cry, one I have not heard since he was a pup and lost a foot down into a large holed drainage grate in a stretch of tall grass. I helped him up, my arms around his belly, trying to get him over to his bed, two footed, him not wanting to put any pressure on the remaining. I stroked his leg gently, feeling for breaks, bending his ankle a centimeter to the left, then up, the the right and back. in a moment he leaped up to eat the food in his bowl, then over to get a drink of water, then back to his bed. he is till laying here panting, myself the human equivalent. how precious that leg is, how fragile, and important. life sustaining. over the months I have stopped the steady stream of nightmarish scenarios that could equal carver's end. but here we are. we need that leg. he cant survive without it. I will give carver pain killers and keep him quiet for the next couple of days-no more walks until I am sure he has healed. I cant help but dwell on how just a few moments ago all that was on my mind was the sumac, how many colors of red it turned, and whether or not they began dark then lightened, or the other way around.