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B is for Best Moments

Olive

This morning, after the morning biscuit + espresso stop, Olive and I wandered under the riotous cherry and plum blossoms in our Greenwood neighborhood, reveling in the beauty of spring.

Down the hill a group of children were heading towards us, exuberantly shrieking “O is for Owl!” and “P is for Pot!” darting back and forth on the sidewalk in a wriggling mass of sweaters, tiny pink rain boots and dragging jackets, trailed by a young women with a clipboard, dutifully noting their Alphabet discoveries.

I stopped, conscious that not all adults like to have dogs around children, and waited for the woman to give me direction. But the children reached us in a flash, and Olive was surrounded by little heads and hands bent over her, asking if they could pet her. I thought her tail would wag off as she barreled right into the middle of the writhing mass, pressing herself against the legs of the nearest little boy.

A tiny girl in a tutu pointed down to her.  ” B is for Black!” she said. And then a little boy looked up at me and said, ‘your coffee cup is Black!” and another child hopped up and down and said ‘your tights and skirt are Black!”

“Even better,” I said, “her name is Olive!” and they all screamed, “Olives are Black!” and we had a great laugh. Then off they careened, pointing and shrieking and kicking up the blossoms on the hilly sidewalk.

I was turning when I felt a small hand on my leg. I looked down and saw that one little boy had come back down the street to me. Looking up solemnly, pointing with his outstretched arm, he said,

“Be careful, there’s a lion on the porch of that yellow house.”

I returned his gaze without a smile.

“Thank you,” I replied. “We will be very careful.”

He nodded, and skipped back up the hill to the group.

Made my day. Even the scary lion.

Revel in random moments, pink blossoms, and little rain boots. Life is good.

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