Today I sniffed my butt, barked at a bear, plunged into a freezing river and rolled in something dead. It was an excellent day.
Mom didn’t use the word excellent—apparently she never asked me to save the day either. Being a superhero is a thankless job.
We woke up after a good sleep
We started our day in bed. Mom was telling me how some humans wear wrist collars that signal whether they slept well. I know if I slept well because I was there. I lay upside down on the bed with my legs pressed against Mom. Mom moved three inches to the left, so I moved three inches to the left. We continued this until she was clinging to the edge of the mattress. I pressed my toes into her face. Mom disappeared over the edge. Breakfast signalling achieved.
Mom had a banana. I had venison. I finished first, so I watched her eat her banana. Very closely. Mom told me about how some humans do “fasting”. This means food is available, but they choose not to eat it ON PURPOSE?! Because they believe it helps them think clear thoughts.
I once had to wait an extra 4.7 minutes for breakfast. I did not notice any mental clarity.
Mom took another bite of her banana. I intensified my gaze. Eventually, Mom succumbed. The banana was hers. Then it was ours.
Then it was mine.
Mom was still hungry so we had second breakfast. This pleases me.
We Went Outside
After second breakfast, Mom opened the door, looked at the forest and said, “Let’s go!” This is how Mom and I check our “readiness score”. She brought out the bike. I smooshed myself against the front door to ensure she understood I was coming too.
We reached the forest after the car made its usual seven turns. We set off on the trail. It smelled like cedar, mushrooms, one bear, three squirrels and a deer who had passed through sometime before breakfast. Mom could not smell this, but I showed her the way. We went fast between the trees. Over roots. Through mud. Down one particularly excellent rock where Mom made the sound she makes when something is either very fun or going badly. Sometimes it is both.
A few turns later, THERE IT IS!! THE BEAR! Zzzzzooooooooooommm! I took off and performed high-speed tactical circles while Mom shouted my superhero name BADGIRLNO! Hearing Mom rooting for me gave me the confidence to unleash my full superpowers. The bear retreated. Another successful mission.
Mom called this a terrible decision. I called it saving the day.
We Had a Moment of Pause
Once I was finished my hero business, I attended to my second order of business, behind an old stump. While there I examined some important smells — Moss. Banana Peel. Chipmunk fingerprint. Mom waited. The creek moved beside us and the trees moved above us. Nothing needed to happen next. Mom says this is called “mindfulness.” It means paying attention to what you are doing instead of thinking about what you might do later.
I once watched a piece of banana on the kitchen counter for twenty-three minutes without thinking about anything else. There was no past. No future. Only banana.
We Solved the Meaning of Life
Mom and I do not always want the same things. I want to bark at bears. Mom would rather I didn’t. I want six breakfasts. Mom believes in two. Mom says people will always have ideas about how you should live. Occasionally some are worth listening to. Do not eat the dead fish is apparently one of them. So I rolled in it instead.
Mom said you can turn your ears towards someone without handing them the leash.
She says to notice what makes your heart pound, your mind quiet and your whole body wag! Then do more of that. Sometimes I back into a tree branch and scratch my butt until I am in a trance and so filled with zoomies they must be expelled immediately. Anyone who thinks this is weird has never found the right branch.
Mom rides her bike through the forest because it’s fun. Other times we stand in the river for hours until the reel goes ziiiiiiing and suddenly our hearts are pounding and I am swimming in circles trying to help Mom make the salmon heel. Mom yells, “Kula! Back!” This is no time to back, Mom. There is a fish not listening. Mom says I am not helping.
This seems unlikely.
She did not say that when her fishing line snapped and I made sure dinner did not escape us. Mom sometimes forgets that I am her superhero. It’s okay, Mom. I remember.
There Was a Stick
When we reached the river in the afternoon, I saw it. A stick. Not an ordinary stick. This was a magnificent river stick—long, sticky and travelling rapidly toward Howe Sound. Some sticks do not need getting. This one did.
I launched off the bank and plunged into the freezing water. I paddled into the current, secured the stick and brought it safely back to shore.
A lady nearby had just plunged into the cold water too. But she did not have a stick in her mouth. She sat in the water looking quite unhappy. I wondered about this lady. She said she was activating her brown fat by sitting in cold water. I don’t know about brown fat. Humans have a hard time letting something fun remain fun.
I dropped the stick at Mom’s feet and shook an entire river onto her.
She squealed.
Then I peed in the river.
This Was Our Day
We came home covered in mud. We had not planned to get muddy. We had not planned anything. Fortunately Mom planned dinner.
Some humans walk in circles after dinner until their wrist collars reach 10,000. Then they get excited when they end up back where they started. I have seen dogs do this with their tails. Those dogs are weird.
I walk until I find a place to poop and sniff things until it feels like next mealtime. Mom rides until she has had enough fun. I don’t know how many steps it was, but I know if we come home muddy and food appears in my bowl, it was the right number.
Mom and I sat in the grass. I rolled upside down beside her. Then we went to bed.
The sun was still up. This is why I like Mom: she understands that the sooner you go to bed, the sooner it is breakfast.
This was our day.
And we liked it.
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