Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
Nancy was making our training problems harder and harder. Before I knew it, it was mid-
summer, less than four months after Dad's death. Solo was fifteen months old. It was easy for
me to keep track of Solo's life and Dad's death: They ran on parallel tracks, going at the same
speed, but heading in opposite directions. Solo's first birthday and Dad's death were five days
apart. Then there would be a second birthday for Solo and a first anniversary of Dad's death.
On it would go.
Solo and I stood in a large cow pasture north of Nancy's house. Great blue skimmers and
common whitetail dragonflies, looking like pieces of chalk on the wing, buzzed across clumps
of cut grass to land on cow pies. It was humid and hot. Solo and I stood at the top of the
pasture. It had a swamp and pond at the bottom, where some of the cows hung out. Solo was
whining as I held him. Before I sent him, I tried to figure out which direction the wind was
coming from; the moist air was barely eddying.
“Find the fish!” As Solo pushed away from me, Nancy narrowed her eyes and looked at
me, giving me the international symbol to shut my mouth and keep it that way. She threw
away the invisible key. Yes, sensei. No nervous chatter, outside or inside. I channeled Bruce
Lee. “A good fight should be like a small play, but played seriously. A good martial artist
does not become tense, but ready. Not thinking, yet not dreaming. Ready for whatever may
come.”
The field was huge. I'd worked it before with Solo, but Nancy had conveniently started
forgetting where she had planted some of the training materials. She was also teaching me
how to sketch a search pattern by fixing on spots on the horizon. I told her that I'd use the
big deciduous tree on the hill as one marker. She laughed at my highbrow botanical vocab-
ulary. Solo ignored my pattern. He threw his massive head up and ran downhill, into the
cow-poop-filled swamp. He slowed, his tail stiffened into the loop that let me know he was
near cadaver material, and he lay down in the muck, staring at me, silent. His new alert.
We'd abandoned the whine as an alert two months back, when it became increasingly clear to
Nancy that his life was one big whine. We'd abandoned the food because a Kong on a rope
was more fun.
“Throw it. Quick!”
I obeyed, clumsily.
Nancy gathered up the training aid. There was more out there. She swept her hand up and
across the pasture. Anywhere out there. It was hotter out. Solo panted, not getting a whiff of
anything. Nancy critiqued my pattern. Too much zig. Not enough zag. I wanted to give Solo
some water out of my new water bag. She reminded me that we had been working for less
than twenty minutes and it wasn't that hot out. I gave him some water anyway. It gave me a
chance to catch my breath.
