Snapshot

The kids next door are playing out back with open hearted sincerity, literally choking on their laughter as they run in clumsy loops. There is pride in the laughter too; a certain self-satifaction at having mastered humor, junior class. Their jib jabber is guaranteed inscrutable to anyone over 4 feet. 

I can’t see them from inside where I’m cleaning the kitchen, but I hear it when their laughter turns into a group cheer. “FLUPPY!!!!!” they shriek and I peer out the window to see Fluppy happily standing up against the chain link to say hi. We periodically hand boxes of treats over the fence so the kids can throw them to the dogs when they’re out there. It’s become impossible to tell whether the kids are more enamoured of the dogs or the dogs of the kids. This feels right, almost prehistorically so.

Fluppy comes loping back into the kitchen. I toss her a treat from the jar. The kitchen’s clean; time to move on to the rest of the house.