Ch 11 Pastoral scenes of the great north east
Anne | April 4, 2010
The path around the reservoir is mostly flat with good footing. Walkers and runners enter through a service road the water department maintains. A berm separates the water from the road for the first several hundred yards. It’s lined with aged pine trees that look like they were planted when the pond was dammed. There are only a few holes denoting fallen trees.
A few paths lead to the water. These are favored spots for the dogs who run down to drink or swim on hot days. Unfortunately, since it is so near the parking area, it’s also a magnet for the offenders leaving poopy diapers.
After passing the beach on the right hand side, the chicken wire fence on the other side of the road disappears. More than one unwary dog has gotten caught behind this fence while in pursuit of small game. They always figure out a way around the blockade and come back no worse for the wear. An old civil defense structure with a horn lurks behind a chain link fence a little further on. Dogs have been known to run around this enclosure and roll in nasty things behind it. Not Doll though.
The reservoir is long and narrow, no longer used as a water supply. The north side is short, basically an earthen dam. A brick pump house sits in the water about 20 feet from shore. During the warm summer ropes hang from the opening, placed there by illicit swimmers. Henry lurks, waiting to catch the scofflaws.
The dam is a canine hot spot. Swimmers rush to the water, antsy individuals race up and down the hill on the back side. Here the grass grows high, reaching over a foot tall; some dogs graze their way through in the never-ending search for the roughage not found in the obscenely expensive food we all buy.
The most magical dog spot appears where the maintained roadway turns into a footpath, entering the woods up a slight incline. Dogs go nuts just before making the right turn. They run in circles, they run back and forth, leap around like psycho-dogs and generally let their hair down.
“Look at Dolly!” “Star!” “Watch out Lulu!”
Lulu, Karen’s dog, is frequently knocked over by the larger dogs. She is small and round, yet fierce. Fortunately she rolls well. “Good thing Lulu’s not a pit bull,” Peter said one day as she fended Dolly off with a determined grrr.
Karen falls frequently on the walks too. She carries a cane but a misplaced foot or a good nudge from a careening dog is enough to drop her.
