Everything was where it should be except for the color of the sky. It was a deep sapphire blue that just does not happen in smoggy Southern California. I must be dreaming. Out of sight of my family, I test my hypothesis by silently greeting one of the flowering plants in the backyard. The plant turns and answers me by budding, maturing, and blooming a spectacular flower.
It’s a beautiful flower. I call for bees to pollinate it quickly so the plant’s gratuitous use of energy can be justified. Bees descend. I think the bloom blushed from all the attention.
I don’t try any further tricks, but allow the dream to unfold as it does. We’re all in the back yard, taking care of things. Or trying to. My parents have been to the “As Seen On TV” aisle at Walgreens again and have come home with enough gear to break Inspector Gadget. Sadly, this is normal behavior. So Dter and I are making bets on what breaks first and which will turn out to be pieces of shit and which will be the surprise that works as intended.
The day goes without trouble until the Self Retractable Hose breaks off at the water pipe. Without water pressure keeping it extended, it shrinks at remarkable speed. All that kinetic energy and no where to go, it bounces up like a spring, bounces off the roof, and falls in the front yard.
Dad was upset because that was his toy that just broke. Mom, Dter, and I are laughing to tears because the breaking was quite a humorous sight. He looks over the remaining nut and declares the hose was not broken, just not screwed in sufficiently, and the manhandling had worked it loose. Okay Dad, whatever saves your ego, I guess.
Mom yells at me to go get the hose from the front yard. She also yells for me to take a weapon or a broom handle because of aggressive dogs on the loose. Of course, she doesn’t warn me about the dogs until I have the back gate wide open.
The year old German Shepard sitting at the gate is aggressively cute and desperately patient. Mom sees him, shrieks, and runs into the house. Neither dog, nor I, move.
“S’up?”, I say to the dog. The dog lifts one paw and waves at me. “Belly rub or ear scratch?” The dog jumps up and places his head under my hand. As I scratch behind his ears, he lets out a grunt of contentment. His tail thumps against the trashcans sounding like a baseball bat against a fence.
I check for a collar, but there is not even the matted fur that would imply he ever wore one. “Come on. You can’t go back there, not safe for you. And I have to get the hose.” The dog licks my hand and makes for the front yard while I close the gate behind me.
In the driveway and front yard are dozens of dogs. From little terrorists terriers, to stray mutts, to pure breeds, to a German Shepard/Great Dane mix with gorgeous coloring and the most patient disposition I have ever seen. Many of them ran up to me, sniffed me, and walked away content to have greeted me. The GS/GD didn’t want me to touch him, but did want to sniff my face. He thanked me with a gentle head-butt.
I found the tightly coiled hose in the middle of the yard, next to a dark colored pit bull bitch that did not get up when I approached. That bothered me, as all the other dogs in the yard were very much animated. When I reached for the hose, she stretched out her paw and grabbed my arm. I left the hose alone and allowed her to pull my arm towards her.
She moved to show me her two puppies. One had an all light colored coat. The other had a light base coat with patches of dark brown fur. Both were lifeless and cold. While I knew I was still dreaming, I also knew I could do nothing for the pups. I picked them up, one by one, and held them close on the off chance that maybe I could pick up a thread connected to them. But there was nothing there to trace. I placed them down and only silently cried.
The bitch licked my tears from my face. She understood there was nothing I could do. In a strange turn of events, she was consoling me about the loss of the pups. As if by my confirmation they were gone, she was released to continue.
She picked up the hose and brought it to me. When I grabbed one end, she didn’t release the other. I noted the hose truly was broken. I tugged slightly. She tugged back. Tugging turned into pulling. Pulling turned into playing.
Water suddenly sprayed down on us. My father was on the roof of the house with the other working hose, spraying the dogs and yelling at them. “Get inside! They’re vicious! They’ll turn on you any second!”
“No, Dad. They’re just a stray pack! They’ll be leaving any second. The bitch…”
He sprays me to shut me up, claiming he was aiming at the ‘very vicious pit bull that was obviously about to attack [me]’. But he had a very familiar look on his face. My father, the sadist. If he can make life uncomfortable for anyone, including random strangers, he will, and take great delight in escaping repercussions. The dogs were barking at him, and he was intentionally spraying them with as high a pressure as the house water supply could manage.
When he turned the hose on the bodies of the puppies, I lost it. I threw a pressure wave of my own and caused him to lose his balance on the roof. I heard him scuttle over the tiles and land on some bushes. Nothing broke, but he was not happy about his forced evacuation.
I stayed in the front yard, trying to get my anger back under control. The German Shepard/Great Dane male came over to me and touched his head to mine again. The gesture calmed me. Two of the larger dogs picked up the bodies of the puppies while the bitch licked my hand and headbutted my side repeatedly.
The large pack of dogs turned and went down the street, while I turned and entered the back yard. Dad was okay. He was pissed about falling off the roof. He knew somehow I was responsible for it, but he couldn’t conceive of how. I told them the dogs were gone. Dad claimed credit. I handed him the hose, went inside the house, and left the dream.