This entire place is soft with the luminous green of the May foliage that fills this forest. One jogger has ploughed by from behind. No one else. A dog suddenly stops on the trail and beholds us. I am trying to guess the breed, and Carl says, "What is that? I don't think it's a German shepherd. Then, almost like magic, the dog disappears into the bushes.
"That's a coyote", says Francois."
"Yes", says George. "We used to seem them from time to time at Trout Lake. Haven't you seen them before, Carl?"
"As a matter of fact I have. But I just assumed they were feral dogs. Did you say Trout Lake?"
"Yes. Ever been there?"
"Never heard of the place. Where is it?"
"It's a big park in East Van." says Jeffrey. We grew up just a block away from there."
"You guys grew up together?"
"We lived on the same block. Since kindergarten at least."
"You guys go back a long time."
"A very long time", says George, sighing...
No comments:
Post a Comment