The Hopping Dog on Fremont

It’s beginning to look like groundhogs day in Lincoln Park, or in other words, home. Once this lease is up I’ll have lived here just under five years. That’s a long time to live any place, let alone a place that remains constant in the face of the city’s ever-changing weather.

From my back porch, three stories above the ground, I look out onto a street called Fremont. In the course of a day I’ll see runners, walkers, bikers, dogs and the occasional construction worker. It’s a quiet street that leaves little to the imagination. Sitting outside, I let my mind make sense of it all.

What got me writing today was a woman walking her miniature dog that hops instead of walks. There was something in the dogs hop that made me write. It was the most peculiar looking little dog. White hair, with a patch of black hair around one eye. I’d imagine if my sight were any better, this dog would have a missing eye or some type of deformity. There’s simply no way the dog just hops like that without some form of setback.

The dog gave me an internal laugh and though it might not sound as though I sympathize with him or her, I’m entirely grateful for seeing it today. I’ve seen the dog before. It maintains a steady hop, assertive stance and confident attitude. This dog happens to be one of the few things in this town that I can stand being reminded of.