I have a longing in my heart—a yearning in my soul—as I stand here in the early morning rain.
I’d best be on my way, but the thought of you keeps me standing here—in the early morning rain.
I’ll be leaving this town ’cause I can find no work and I’m down to my last dollar.
I have nothing; I am nothing, so I cannot approach you. Instead, I stand here in the early morning rain and look to where you live. I want only one last look at you and then I’ll go—one look at you through a window—in the early morning rain.
I have nowhere to go and no one waiting for me when I get there. But the vision of you in my heart will sustain me, if I can only see you one more time—through the early morning rain.
I’m a long way from home, in miles and in time. I’ve been alone forever. I thought I needed no one, but now after having seen you but once, I find myself in the early morning rain with an aching in my heart.
There you are! You passed by the window, it was only a glimpse I had of you.
Now I’ll be on my way—in the early morning rain.
[caption id="attachment_2572" align="aligncenter" width="187"] Click to see on Amazon[/caption]
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I have a longing in my heart. I have a yearning in my soul, as I stand here in the early morning rain. I’d best be on my way, but the thought of you keeps me here.
I was leaving this town cause I could find no work. I am down to my last dollar. Then I saw you.
I have nothing; I am nothing, so I cannot approach you. Instead, I stand here in the early morning rain and look to where you live. I only want one more look at you and then I’ll go. One look at you through a window, in the early morning rain.
I have no place to go . . . I have no one that cares for me . . . but I have the vision of you in my heart. That will sustain me . . . if I can only see you one more time, in the early morning rain.
I’m a long way from home, in miles and in time. I’ve been alone forever. I thought I needed no one, but now after having seen you but once, I find myself in the early morning rain with an aching in my heart.
There you are. You passed by the window, it was only a glimpse I had of you. Now I’ll be on my way. I could have loved you so much, but that will not be.
This old world has me down . . . as I stand here in the early morning rain.
I’m in a foul mood today, so this communiqué will be short. It’s been raining for three days and three nights, and one more day of this miserable weather and I’m going to have Andrew build us an ark. Well, maybe not, seeing as how we already live on a boat. “We” being myself, Danny the Dog and my human, Andrew.
The thing about rain I don’t like is that it’s wet. It soaks your fur; it keeps you inside when you could be out chasing cats or running down a tantalizing scent. And to top it off, it brings thunder with it. And I don’t like thunder! Another thing I don’t like about rain is that one has to go outside to do one’s “business.” Hey . . . I can hold it. I’ll wait until it’s dry outside, but Andrew insists that I go out at least twice a day, rain or shine.
When it’s raining, Andrew puts on some sort of yellow getup that keeps him dry, but does he have one of those things for me? Nope!
So for three days now he’s forced me, against my will, to go outside with him in the rain. If I knew how to use a phone, I’d report him to the Humane Society. But I show him. When we come back, I jump up on the bed and roll around until I’m dry. I don’t mind wet sheets, but for some reason Andrew does.
So here I sit at his computer. The big lummox is in the bedroom reading a book, and I know with a certainty that he’s going to come out here in the next few minutes and say, “Okay boy, let’s go for a walk.” And I’ll be thinking, “Okay human, how about I just bite you instead?”
Here he comes. I’ll let you know tomorrow if we went out in the rain or I bit him.
It’s been a tough morning and I’d like to tell you, the gentle reader, of my travails. I’m Danny the Dog as I’m sure most of you know by now. And I’m also sure you know of my human, Andrew.
The morning started out as most of my mornings do. At about 5:00 a.m, I wagged my tail, hitting the wall, and then I started in with my patented low growl. The thump ... thump … of my tail hitting the wall, coupled with the growl, always awakens Andrew.
It was time to take him for his walk.
He begrudgingly hauled his carcass out of the bunk (on boats, beds are called bunks). He went into the head (bathroom) and did whatever humans do when in that room. Then he opened the hatch (door) and I scampered out onto the deck. Of course, I had to wait for him, I always do. He’s kind of old and decrepit; it takes him awhile to ascend the stairs. Finally, we were on our way. If I had known what was in store for me, I would not have been so anxious to start off on this particular walk.
First off, I must tell you that I love messing with Andrew’s head. I mean I like him and all, he’s not too bad for a human, but I’ve got to keep him in his place. After all, I am the dog and he is only the human.
Now there are a few things that Andrew does not like me to do, but I do them anyway. At the top of his list is that he doesn’t want me biting humans. I say if God did not want us biting humans, He wouldn’t have given them to us to bite in the first place
The other two things on his list are no drinking out of mud puddles and eating food I find on the side of the road, particularly chicken bones. I did both of these things this morning just to let him know who was boss. And maybe I shouldn’t have.
Before we even got out of the marina, I stopped at two puddles and drank my full. Concerning the puddles, Andrew has learned a long time ago that I love rainwater and no way am I ever going to let him pull me away when I’m drinking that delightful muddy water.
The next part of the walk didn’t go as smoothly. You see, I have Andrew conned. He lets me sniff to my heart’s desire where other dogs have been. Maybe “lets me” isn’t the right way to say it. It took a lot of training on my part to get him to be patient while I did what dogs love to do. Anyway, as he was thinking I was on the scent of a dog or some other animal, I was really looking for a chicken bone I had discerned.
When I found said bone, I clapped my jaws on it before Andrew knew what was happening. But even a human as out of touch as Andrew couldn’t help but hear the crunch as I bit into that tasty bone. He tried to pry my mouth open to extract it, but he’s too old and feeble. No way was he going get that delicious bone from me. In the end, he gave up. Counting the mud puddle, that was two for the dog and zip for the human.
Now we come to the crux of the matter (I don’t know what crux means, but it looks good with the “x” at the end).
As I’ve told you before, we usually go to a park on our morning jaunts, but not this morning. There is a lake in the vicinity that Andrew likes to go to, but we mostly go in the late afternoon. Andrew likes to watch the sun go down over the lake. He calls it communing with nature, which is ridiculous. Humans don’t know how to commune with nature, only us dogs know how to do that. Hell, we are a part of nature! Anyway, back to the story.
It’s a nice lake if you like water, I don’t. I’ll drink the stuff, but that’s where I draw the line. On the few occasions that Andrew bathes me, it takes all my willpower not to bite him. Around the lake is also some nice green and soft grass. I love to roll on it. Andrew, being the indolent slob that he is, just lies on the grass without rolling on it at all! Unbelievable!
This morning Andrew did what he always does, he tied the long leash to a tree by the water’s edge, the tree on one end of the leash, me on the other. I didn’t mind, there were some good scents in the air, mostly duck. I love barking at ducks, don’t you? So as Andrew lay recumbent on the grass, I set out to find me a duck to bark at. And it didn’t take long to scrounge up a scent; it led right into the water.
I must not have been paying attention (of course I wasn’t, I was sniffing!) because I found myself on some terra firma that wasn’t that firm. I plunged into the water right up to my neck. It only took me a minute to get back on solid ground, and when I did, I started to shake myself off. But I stopped because Andrew was laughing, he was laughing at me. So I held my instincts in check and went over to Andrew. Then, and only then, did I let loose with the best shake of my life. Now Andrew was almost as wet as me. That stopped his braying.
Andrew was pleased to inform me that falling into the lake was my bad karma for eating the chicken bone. He is always going on about karma and reincarnation. I don’t know about karma, But when it comes to reincarnation, who the hell would want to come back as a human? Not me . . . I might come back as Andrew. God forbid.
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