An Ode

The bathtub spouts scalding water, perfect for soaking the hounds’ food. The stall doors are raised enough for Rags or Frolic to duck under for a visit. The cement floors showcase my dew-dampened footprints in the early morning, and puddles left by dropped water balloons in the afternoon. The ladies’ room in Aldie is only unwelcoming once each day, the hour before cocktails, when half-dressed women emerge from their baths to coif themselves. At all other times, it is our shelter, our safe haven, snuggly during spring rains, chilled in the summer heat, and toasty against the chilly fall air.