Back when the world was young, and we scuffed through dry leaves in the crisp fall weather, I was on my way to Happy Herbie's English class on the second floor of Heimlich Hall when a brown Boxer came up alongside me and escorted me upstairs. Soundless and heedless of others, he lay down on the worn wooden boards next to my seat. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the dust motes danced around him in golden sunlight. After class he walked me downstairs and left me outside.
He showed up again next class, and the one after that, and the one after that, for about a week and a half. The routine was the same. No one in class, not even Happy Herbie, mentioned or acknowledged him.
Then one day, he didn't show. And I never saw him again.
I still wonder. And I have loved Boxers ever since.
Warrior for the working day.
Es una cosa muy seria. --Robert Capa
"...I rode the range in a Ford V8...Yippy Yi Yo Ki Yay." --Johnny Mercer (as modified)
"What cannot be remedied must be endured."
Vale et omnia quae.
P:28
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