Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I looked into the eyes of my dog, lined up and fixed in stone. I brace myself for the frenzy about to be leashed, feeling the heart beat of the moment slowing to a stand still.

    "Do you want to go on an adventure?"

    Launched at my face is a four-legged black and white floppy eared tail wagging power walker, bounding off the couch and over my head in a moment as graceful as a gold medal winning vault. He lands on the floor and sprints to the kitchen door, spinning in concentric circles on his way. During his aerobatic display I manage to slip on his harness and fasten the leash, bag in hand.

    The door opens.

    We are faced with a cool spring afternoon an hour or so before sunset. Puddles are scarce yet meet our feet anyway, a proper christening for an exploration of our neighborhood. Setting off towards the lake, the Olympic champion is captivated by what I believe to be every single blade of grass in a five block radius. While he manages the ground operations, I find my gaze stolen by the sky above.

    The hour or so before sunset is always fantastic in the western sky. The clouds are illuminated with gold and wisps of the lightest silver and blue hues imaginable. Cloudless evenings feature a soft maroon and purple intertwined; a dress of a tango dancer swirling and swooshing in front of the flickering bulbs of street lights waking up for the night shift. She dances to the sound of garage doors closing and pencil leads snapping as English papers frustrate the city. Red flash bulbs capture the scene from afar, throbbing like swollen hearts on the opposite shore. The radio towers play a song that neither of us care to hear.

    With the show coming to an end, my glasses become an unnecessary burden as the thick, burgundy curtain falls over the stage. We head home and feast.

    We'll be returning to the theater soon.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.