Bindings and Pawprints
"Ach now, Conn, it's na' time for readin'. Go now and put the book down, ye' silly hound," laughed Maire. She had never before seen a hound with such a taste for being read to. It was such a funny thing how the beasty always curled up at her feet as soon as she sat down with her book. And now he had taken to bringing it to her in the kitchen as soon as she had wiped the last of the breakfast dishes. It didna' seem to matter to the hound that she might have things to be doin'. Ever since that first cup of tea and the opening bit of Swift, he was hard on her heels for the book. She looked down at the shaggy blonde head, not so far away from her chin as one might think, and smiled. He was truly a comfort, that he was indeed. What would it hurt to read just a few pages before she started the wash? She picked up her now cold tea and went off toward her chair knowing Conn would follow, the book carefully nipped in his teeth, lips pulled back as if he was trying to keep his slather off it.
She sat and adjusted her skirts and then took the proffered book from the obviously expectant hound. Conn's blue eyes were sparkling and the tail was wagging to a beat she had never quite seen before, but it was merry indeed. She was surprised to find the binding only the slightest bit damp. She had expected a bit more drool after he had carried it around for so long. Perhaps he really had been working hard to keep the book dry. She pulled the ribbon marker up and opened to the page, slipping comfortably back in the seat and began to read. Conn performed the usual ritual of walking in circles and then settled with his head on his outstretched paws where he could keep his gaze focused on her face. They were just at the place where the little people were scampering about, pinning their giant down, when Thom game blustering through the door. He stopped as if he had hit a brick wall when he saw his wife all cozied up with her book so early in the day.
"Is everythin' alright?" he asked.
"Just fine" she smiled.
"Are ye' certain? Is there anythin' I should be knowin?" he queried cautiously.
"Och, no, I'm just of a mind to read to the pup here for a bit, never ye' mind. What has ye back in the house in such a blither?"
"I can't find me rifle," he mumbled still a bit bemused to see her not up and about.
"I put it out on the porch last night. I wasna' feelin' comfortable with it in the house."
"I keep it in the house regular."
"I know, but I was of a mind last night that it was a dangerous thing. It kept makin' me shudder to see it there so I set it out. A woman's got a right to feel safe in her home Thom." With that last comment she tucked her head back down as if she were reading the book and did not glance back up at him, though he stared at her a long while before turning for the door and his "dangerous" weapon.
Glad that he had not made more of her odd behavior from the night before, she began to read again, but soon the words trailed off. Her mind just could not stay with the story. She kept remembering how much the rifle had bothered her. She had felt such a cold chill when she passed between it and Conn the night before and not just the one time, at least three times o'er the course of the evening, until she couldna' stand it and put the cold metal and its harsh breath outside where it would leave her senses alone. There was something that did not bode well between that gun and the hound and she didna' want it near Conn. Yet she couldna' find a way to explain this to her Thom that she thought he would understand. It was more than likely that he would think it was her time and laugh himself silly at her being a woman again. Men could be outright frustrating when they refused to accept an intuition.
She picked up the book again, thinking to try a few more pages. As she settled in the chair, Conn approached and laid one large shaggy paw on the page before her. A soft gentle touch was all the hound did, not enough to ruffle the paper or make a mark, but enough to call an end to the reading. She looked at him and scrubbed his ears good. "Fine, let's go take care of the morning chores then, ye and I."
They went out then and made their rounds with the large blonde hound trotting out in front of her. She watched the graceful lope in his stride and enjoyed the feeling of pride that they had become somehow connected. At least she felt they had. As she walked forward in his path, she noticed that the prints in front of her were oddly spaced, not offset the way you would expect, but parallel as if both front feet were landing together and the rear doing the same. He was surely not running so fast as that, and really, what kind of animal leaves pawprints so strange? She followed the bizarre prints straight to the pen where she found Conn nearly nose to nose with the grey, Coll. She should have expected that as it seemed Conn always found a way to be near that grey one. Though she couldn't really say the same for Coll. It seemed more like he was busy with Cait, who was clearly with pup now. She had a heavy belly. Maire thought she must be carrying at least three or, if not, then two huge beasties in that small frame. She left Conn at the pen and went about her other chores, getting the wash started and checking the small vegetable patch for weeds and ripe food.
As she wound her way back with an apron full of early tomatoes, she found herself surrounded by hounds. How on earth did they manage to get out of the pen? One look at Conn and Coll was all it took to get that answer. Somehow, and she was certain she would be the last to know how, those two had opened the pen. Well, it did not matter much as that was next on the list. She took the tomatoes in and left them in the sink.
Spying her still unfinished cup of tea, she wandered over to clear the dish, picking up the overturned book on the chair as she did so. It was not a good for the binding to leave the book in that position. As she slipped the ribbon marker over to put it into the page, she noticed the faintest of marks on the paper, the outline of one very large shaggy paw. She thought to dust it off and changed her mind. It seemed natural for Conn to leave his mark on the little fairy world in the book. She put in the marker and closed the book, a faint slip of a smile lighting her face.
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