Old Chum

When I arrived at Carmelo, it was smelling like it had just rained, fresh and wet and strong. I was crossing the first road, going downhill, when a one-eyed dog came running up, wagging its tail, barking in delight. It jumped up, knocked my headphones off, licked my hands when I reached for them. It was a greeting between old friends.

He must have mistaken me for somebody else. I guess his one good eye wasn't all that good after all.