Emergency Response Dog

Smoke on the Horizon. Has the Circus Returned?

Life lately has been unusually peaceful and sunlit, which unfortunately makes for terrible storytelling. So before we begin, please keep in mind that all events described below may have been mildly dramatized and embellished for narrative purposes.

I’ve been trying to get out earlier in the mornings with Socks. It’s cooler, quieter, and one of the most beautiful times of day here in Charente, France. I keep aiming to get dressed and out the door while the fog is still hanging over the hills, though by the time I get my boots on, the fog has usually vanished completely.

A couple of days ago, we headed out into the soccer field behind my house and immediately noticed enormous white billows of smoke rising in the distance.

Now, ever since moving here about a year and a half ago, I’ve lived with the recurring dread that the circus will someday return to town. Well, maybe not a circus exactly, but a traveling carnival with speakers blasting the same twelve seconds of music on an endless loop.

You know the drill: barkers shouting at children to hit that Mickey Mouse harder on the merry-go-round, questionable machinery squealing in distress. The distant smell of burnt sugar and barbecue drifting off the fields, that part I can tolerate.

What I dread is the sound.

The river just across the way has a habit of carrying noise in our direction, and I’ve often wondered what would happen if every ride’s separate music started drifting toward the house at once. One warped pop song colliding with another. Basslines fighting in the fog. This is a particular nightmare for me. Multiple songs playing at once make my brain feel like an overheated electrical panel.

Years ago, the kids and I actually went to a carnival there. I remember wandering past sad-looking tanks of exhausted sea life, the damp metallic smell of aquariums, the sour animal scent drifting from the tiger cages across the fields.

And the smells! Will the animal smells drift across the fields to us, filling our yard with stale scat stench and moldy aquarium grunge?

The parking lot could fill with teenagers doing wheelies at midnight while distorted music echoed over the river!

So naturally, upon seeing the smoke, my first thought was:

The carnies have arrived early and are setting the field on fire to make room for their llamas, bumper cars, tiger cages, and tilt-a-whirls.

There was only one thing to do. Investigate.

Socks, being both a rescue dog and a trained detective, was clearly qualified for neighborhood emergency response operations. He immediately took the lead. Together we wove through the village streets toward the smoke, preparing to uncover a terrible conspiracy.

As we walked, the story in my head escalated rapidly.

Perhaps the carnival had already begun assembling itself out there. Perhaps hidden beyond the smoke were rusted rides slowly unfolding at dawn while carnies hammered metal together in the distance. Perhaps by nightfall the entire field would be glowing with cheap lights and generator fumes while a haunted remix of Eurodance music echoed across the valley forever.

From a distance, the smoke looked enormous. Thick white clouds rolling upward against the morning light like something out of an old war photograph.

Instead, we discovered that the people over there, who once had the albino wallabies, appear to be building additional shelters for what I can only assume will eventually become… more wallabies?

The smoke itself was probably just yard waste burning peacefully in the morning air. Considerably less exciting than my theory involving rogue carnival expansion.

I hadn’t walked this particular area in a while, mostly because of the dangerous grass awns that can be really harmful for dogs, especially Socks. So I was surprised to discover how high the grass had gotten, and even more surprised to see that someone had carved beautiful winding paths through it all.

We wandered through tall green corridors with smoke drifting across the fields while the morning light broke through in patches.

And most importantly: I got some really good photos, which I thought you might enjoy in black and white.

Socks has been exceptionally cooperative lately in his many roles, including wandering fog detective, live vacuum cleaner, hide-and-seek champion, and occasional photo bomber, so I hope you enjoy this week’s pictures. More are definitely on the way.

Image wildly dramatized.

Yesterday was very windy, and I am working on these luscious slow-motion shampoo ad worthy sessions with your favorite dog model. You have that to look forward to!