Cokie May's Magical Day
Laurie Long
(June, 2013)
As our weekend custom, my husband and I took long walks on our farm, accompanied by our yellow Labrador,Cokie May. We treasured this time together. Theproperty was several hundred acres with a large fresh water lake, miles of rolling hills, and acres of untouched timber surrounded by pastures and alfalfa fields. Our walks usually lasted two or three hours.
On this particular Sunday, it was thirty degrees at one in the afternoon when we began our "trek." A few inches of snow were already on the ground, and more was coming down hard, falling at a clip of a couple of inches an hour. The flakes were large and swirling about as they fell, and the world was silent as we traipsed the hills. The fog was so thick, we could not see more than fifteen feet in front of us, less than that at times. The wind was kicking up and though visibility was low, we did not have a care.
Cokie May was five years old. She lived for runs like these. Her face and muzzle were covered in snow, as she routinely stuck her head into any interesting smell that caught her attention. Her big brown-black eyes were alert and dancing. She was in her element.
We had been out for over an hour and our faces and clothing were wet. The snow was whirling around us, as if we were walking inside a snow globe. The fog was heavy, and the absence of sound made everything feel otherworldly.
We noticed Cokie was no longer in our line of sight. Coming out of a hollow and going up a hill, we began to hear muffled sounds like something or someone making stomping noises. We looked up, only to hear the sounds grow louder and then, all of a sudden, we sensed movement. We headed in that direction and found Cokie, but she was not alone....
Happening on a spot where six deer lay sleeping, Cokie must have startled them awake. One was lying down, two were just getting up, and three were standing, moving around. We could see impressions in the snow where they had lain only moments ago. For a second, things seemed to move in slow motion but abruptly, without warning, they formed a group and began to run. Cokie was in the middle of the group, running with them, part of them. Running at top speed, with such power, she became a pale blur amid their dark colors. Some deer were running in a crouched position, most were upright . . . and . . . they were all running right at us. There were six of them; Cokie made seven.
We stood stock still, rooted, afraid to move an inch. The deer and Cokie passed all around us. The air whooshed and their hooves beat the ground as they flew by. We could have reached out and touched them. They were so close, maybe an arm’s length. So beautiful and so powerful. The scene lasted only a fraction of a moment. Their presence was dreamlike and apparitional; unreal.
Just as quickly as we saw them, they were gone. Then the quiet came again . . . the snow, still falling, the fog, the wind . . . as if the deer were never there. Stunned, we looked at one another, snow encrusted and smiling. Wehad witnessed an experience of a lifetime . . . and so had Cokie.
She returned a few minutes later, and we were overjoyed to see her. Unfazed to have been a part of such a natural force, we knew she was secretly pleased with herself. We told her how proud we were of her, as lesser dogs would not have met, nor relished, the challenge to run as one with the deer.
The memory of that quiet Sunday has never left us, though our Cokie has. She gave her all, on that day with the deer, and gave us a memory to cherish and hold close to our hearts.
Laurie Long resides in northern Mississippi with her husband Jamie. She kept a journal of adventures and antics of her five Labradors over thirty years and has begun to develop them into short stories. This story was written for her mother and in thanks to Cokie May.