The Dog Days Of Summer At Woods Cemetery

 Today, with a mere 3 vacation days left before Sunday's events, I decided to take a drive.  Desperate to get out of the house.  Gotta move.  I had an errand to run and after completing it I found myself drawn to a comfortable place from my past.  Near Bunker Hill there is a cemetery with a name that intrigues me.  "Woods Cemetery."

I use to ride my motorcycle out here and spend time reading century old headstones, wondering if any were my ancestors.  Not likely, but possible.  So I drove that way today and soon found myself sitting in the midst of the dead.  It is a warm day.  I'd call it hot.  Still, I sat on a marble slab that constituted two headstones.  It overlooks the headstones of a "Pastor and Mrs. Woods."  After all of these years they are still sharing God's Word.

May I be as faithful when it is my turn.  After thinking about the lives of these ministerial saints I roamed the property, wondering about those I share a name with who lie buried under weather-worn markers.

It was just beyond this time and place, past the stained marker that reaches toward the heavens, that I heard them.  They were not barking.  It's too hot to bark.  They were just running. Toward me.  Not in my general direction.  TOWARD me.  I'm grateful to the fence that they jumped for making a bit of noise or I might not have noticed them until ... well ... let's just say I'm grateful to the fence.  The dogs convinced me from a distance that I wanted to run too.  I wouldn't call it a bonding experience.  It just seemed like the thing to do.  I nearly did a head-first dive into Emma the Mustang but a glance over my shoulder brought me to a stop.  The German Shepherd is standing over the grave marker I was reading and he's ... he's "marking his spot."  Seriously.  The dog is peeing on the headstone I had been reading. The one next to the Davis family.  The flat one with "Woods" written on it.  And his buddy, the White Lab is staring me down.  No doubt wondering if I taste like chicken.

After his bladder was empty and I was locked away in my car Mr. G. Shepherd came over to "splain something to me.  About how I should stay off his property.  I showed him my drivers license where it clearly says "Woods."  He was not impressed.

It truly has been a slow vacation.