Friday, 2 February 2018
It soon became clear that I'd be walking the Accent Snob alone.
"Aren't you glad I'm up?" I asked the RFB grimly.
Setting out into the predawn, I decided I would be heading east enough times that day, with several viewings scheduled necessitating all residents be out of the house, include the canine one. I bent my steps west under a moon in its final quarter.
The summer and its heat had lingered on, but suddenly, it was autumn. The colours had waited until late into the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend to show themselves.
I walked through the maze of New Edinburgh streets in the half-light. The sun had yet to clear the horizon.
I passed houses with lights partially on - usually in the back where the kitchens are. No one else on the streets, save another dog-walker, whose terriers snarled and lunged at the sight of the Accent Snob across the street. The woman hurried them into her driveway.
My fingers began to sting at the tips -- another sure sign of an Ottawan October. Our gloves were all in storage awaiting the move west.
I pressed on toward the mist-shrouded Rideau River. Now I was being passed by joggers, cyclists, and more dog-walkers. A woman with two black greyhounds greeted me: "It's nice to see you again." I suspect she recognized the Accent Snob, not me. We used to encounter her quite a bit on the Putman stretch of the walk, which I was skipping that morning.
I crossed a deserted Crichton Street, seeing, all of a sudden, a convoy of vehicles bearing down on me from the Vanier Parkway traffic light.
The morning sunlight was touching the tops of the taller houses, but not the sidewalk. At 7:30, the sunrise for my latitude and longitude was fifteen minutes ago: cars backing out of driveways, and figures with carrier bags emerging from houses.
I disappeared into mine. I did not walk along the Rideau again.