Friday, June 3, 2011

The Drill by W.S. Allen

A man, a dog and a bumper.

As the white rubber tube flies effortlessly through the thick Texas air his muscles constrict and his focus and dedication are clearly visible. I give the command "mark," without hesitation the rubber tube captures our attention. At the moment of impact through eyes clear and dedicated, out of respect more than guidance, he considers my expression. His goals are well defined, to please first and to capture second.

He's not confused as we walk in a direction different than the path gravity dictated for the rubber bumper. He's done this countless times, effortlessly and with an air of familiarity we wander a hundred yards away. Our ambling gate mask the concentration felt by both as we plan the next few seconds over and over in our minds. His attention at odds between me and the small rubber tube pinned to the earth by forces unseen a hundred yards away.


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