A Reflection in the Window OR The Little Damp Spots

Nearly every Tuesday, at just about 12:20pm, the reflection of a handsome black dog in a blue and yellow cape flashes into the first window of a little shop on a little street in a little town. The jingle of a collar can be heard, and if one listens very closely, the quiet padding of large paws and the slight scrape of toenails against the red brick sidewalk as well. Here and there, a drip a saliva slides from his tongue to the pavement, leaving a little damp spot.

We are downtown, but there are no stoplights. No angry people. No trash.
Flowers and green things burst from window boxes and planters at nearly every shop. Music floats from the open door of a toy shop, and a cafe down the road.
In the middle of it all stands a very old log cabin on a large lawn surrounded by very old trees.

The whole scene is almost too idyllic, as if it came straight out of a story book. And perhaps it did, for this is Historic Jonesborough, the storytelling capitol of the world.

Novel in front of the international storytelling center

I am terribly fond of downtown Jonesborough. It is by far one of the most friendly and inviting places you could ever visit. I work only a very short drive away, so every Tuesday, and sometimes on Thursday, and sometimes on Friday, Novel and I come here to walk during my lunch break. We walk the length of the single street. Sometimes we peek into old fashioned shops. Sometimes we explore the alleys between and behind the buildings. Sometimes we relax on benches, or in gardens and watch people pass by. We always work on a few commands.

Doing a "jump onto an impressively small....little...space...

But mostly we just enjoy each other's company.

                                                               "What's it say mom?"

We just enjoy "this part of the story." I have walked past the "International Storytelling Center" countless times, but ironically, I have never been inside. I have never heard a story told here...that is, except the one I am living. Novel has irrevocably and undeniably changed my life. His chapter in my life, however short, has become an essential twist in the plot. I have met people, made choices, and learned things I never would have without him. As August and Turn-in draws nearer, I anticipate that chapter ending, but who knows - it isn't actually over yet!

On Tuesday, at approximately 12:50pm, that reflection of the dog in the blue and yellow cape slides out of view in the first window of the little shop on the little street in the little town. The jingle of his collar dies down, and the little damp spots dry up in the sun. Everyone expects to see it all again next Tuesday because it is the same story every week.

But its not just a story. Behind that reflection is a real dog who is making a lasting impression on at least one person's life. My heart aches sometimes with the thought that Novel might not graduate, and then again at other times with the thought that he might. Deep down, I know that even though his reflection will shortly be sliding out of my window, that doesn't mean he is gone. He will simply be reflecting into another window. I know that. I've planned for that. The fact remains that he has unforgettably impacted my life. And whether or not he graduates as an assistance dog, that fact will remain, unlike the little damp spots that dried up.