i forgot everything but my feet on the first walk. no phone, no money, no camera. fortunately i heard wrong and the elevator came, though r. is back from dog sitting and points out i would not have had to walk to my first walk. thank you r. 
it is a dark and rainy monday, the day of the first school shooting in my american memory (tell me why? i don't like mondays). school is in and the autopilots are out in droves and foreshortened rain vision. beware, children, the american autopilots will kill you in a the chicago crosswalks as well as iraq.
it was dark at mister's house too. i woke him with a whistle at the threshold of his bedroom and he woke his mom with a bark. he wouldn't eat his food. he's overweight anyway his trainer says. i didn't have an apple and gave him no treat. it was the most essential of walks, once around the block. i was aware of my right insole with each soft step in my stiff rain boots. r. said walk lightly and i did as well as i could with these feet, which don't feel adequate to support my skinny white ass, but did. 
last night i read by nightlight the way of coyote. he talked about a book about what robins know, and said to know birds, and know what they know, you need to soften your presence in the world. think about the coyote today if you can. they call them the ghosts of chicago because they are so discrete seen, but seen they are the most lively of ghosts, in a place with more ghosts than animals, human and non, and if you chance to see them seeing you, their eyes will light you from within.