As I thought about my day, I could not dispel the desire to go back to the Pond Place but, would it be there? I was afraid to try and afraid to not try. I hate indecision, it makes me crazy. Penny was sitting on my left, her usual place, just looking up at me. “Penny, what do I do? Well, I’ll never know if I don’t go look.”
Walking toward her leash hanging on its hook next to the front door, was her cue for a happy dance. All a-wag, a-wiggle, and with her happy voice, she jumped up on the ottoman. “Sit! get that cute butt down” as I reached for the ring on her collar. Clipped on, I opened the door and out we went to see.
I walked down the sidewalk that flanked my garage, turned left onto the walk by the big tulip tree, and the few steps to the driveway that ran around to the back of the retirement complex, behind my property. My town home was one of 25 duplexes on a quiet intersection in the south Willow Glen area of San Jose. Life was quite residential and uncomplicated.
I was torn inside. I so wanted to go to the Pond Place and find the frogs again. The peace I had, and left with, made no sense to me because nothing in my life changed. But I was just a little bit different, and I wanted more. But I could not believe that it was real. I couldn’t figure it out, so it had to be a fake, a figment of my overactive imagination and anxiety. I looked down at Penny trotting along with her furry feet (I need to get her to the groomer) and she was all business. But she was always happy on the leash. So I kept walking
And there it was! Smack dab in the middle of the driveway. Really right behind my backyard. The opening in the trees with the light deep inside. We did not hesitate but hurried inside. Penny picked up the pace and I even began to trot, pain and fatigue gone. As we moved down the path, I began to be excited as I could hear the frogs, so I stopped us and unclipped Penny and off she went. Happy barks. Sounded like “I am coming”, but maybe that was my thought. Rounding the bend, there they were. It had to be real, just had to be. Frogs and pond and rock wall and trees and bushes, just as I remembered it. Confirmation arrived as Penny leaned in too far to say hello and in she went.
I always assumed that dogs knew how to swim instinctively, and I was right. She gave a great yelp, and began to paddle. Nose up, ears floating on the surface, she headed for me. Realizing that she could not get purchase on the wet rocks, I reached in to lift her out. She weighed twice as much wet, surprising me. I lost my balance and landed square on a rock, tummy down. Wind knocked out of me, I still managed to get dripping, wiggling, barking dog out. We landed in a wet heap, and I began to giggle as I recovered my breath. Penny stood on my chest and shook! Bless her. I was almost as wet as she, and smelled a bit pondy. My giggles turned to laughter, moving up from deep down in my belly. Penny danced and pranced, shaking and rolling in the grass. She would run and then roll, and then do it all over again. She would run to the Pond and bark ferociously as if to scold the Pond for doing this to her. I only laughed harder, so hard that I wet myself, but who’s to know with all the water.
I began to calm, tired out by all the commotion and fun. I do not remember a time when I had such laughter. I remembered the frogs. Were they scared of all the barking? Nope, there they all were doing their froggy stuff. Penny would cock her head when one got close and loud, so she could hear them. But it seems that frogs don’t hear us, don’t understand dog or people speak. Penny found a patch of sun and plopped down, panting. Likewise I found a dry sunny spot and lay back. A warm breeze moved into the glade and around us. We began to dry out.
Where am I, I asked again. I can’t have imagined the water, it really was wet. My clothes are wet, and they have no imagination whatsoever to have created their own wetness. Some fear began to grow in my gut. I can’t be alone here, who or what comes to drink at the pond? Why did this pond place appear before me? How come Penny is with me? I think I want to go home—now!
I jumped up and called to Penny. I grabbed her leash and called again. She ignored me and took off into the brush beside the pond, hot on the trail of a startlingly colored frog. Hard to miss with the red feet and back. I took off after them, alarmed. Now what? God can’t you help here? As I moved through the brush, I scattered critters to the right and left of my feet. Huh? I looked and saw that they were toads. I remembered from David Attenbourgh’s series on PBS that toads are just dry frogs, they are land livers not water livers. I thought, maybe this is froggy heaven. Frog heaven? Come on gal you’re losing it. “Penny” I yelled and I could hear her barking ahead.
The barking was friendly, not defending or aggressive so I slowed down. What had she found now? When I got to her, there was much of nothing going on but the toads hopping around. The frog had gone, and now only the land cousins were entertaining her. I sat on a convenient log to rest and watch. It all seemed harmless enough, and I noticed that my clothes were dry. The sun was warm in this little spot, shining down through the canopy. Looking up, the trees seemed to go on forever. Blue sky so blue it looked like it had density, if I could poke it, that it would feel firm. That it would sort of bounce like a really tight balloon skin or jello. Odd. Up in the trees was movement, but I could not see anything at all. The toads would hop up the trees and some seemed to even climb.
My fear had almost gone, so I leaned back to watch and wait. Penny tired of the toads or they of her, because they left. I wiggled down onto the grass. She came and lay next to me with her head on my leg. Looking up, she seemed content. I reasoned, if there were dangers she would know and act like it. She’s not, so chill out. My breathing slowed and I closed my eyes to listen to the forest sounds. Wind up in the tops of the trees, that faint sound like an engine, but it was closer. The chirps, croaks, clicks of insects and others. A birds, bees, and bugs combo. All were soothing. So I rested.
Penny moved and stretched, blowing her nose clear to better smell, she licked my nose. “OK, I get it, time to go”. We walked back to the clearing, where the pond was empty. I picked up the leash, clipped it on, and we began to walk back. I know this place exists, but that is all I know about it. I am glad for it, and the peace I find here, but what is it? Can I come again?
