In Control

His three dogs, bred to herd and
as intelligently responsive as
any sensitive animal on four legs
can be, are attentive to his commands,
communicated often and in a
language they well understand of
hand signals, tone of voice absent
tension. Facing us, his tone is
conversational almost casual as
he tells us with grim satisfaction
that he ran this morning despite
having to stop intermittently
until the signals his body now
conveys subsided. Cellphone always
at hand but of no use should he
lose consciousness. Don't know
what the dogs would do, he quips.
He now knows the reason for
those awkward dizzy spells, his
inability to focus his mind, his
memory loss and spasms of 
weakness flooding his fit and
athletic body. Newly diagnosed
by a neurologist he has no option
but to undergo surgery to relieve 
the pressure of water on his brain.
One damn thing after another, he
shrugs as we scan his tired eyes
and strained, rigid face, while his
three dogs race through the woody
forest underbrush, flashes of black
and white alerting him to their
necessarily near presence for recall.