We got out about half an hour before dawn this morning. Under the trees there wasn't much moonlight and the only way I could follow the trail was by memory. Prophet had a much easier time with it, but he was preoccupied with some other critters who were still out. Opossums? Raccoons? Coyotes? I have no idea. I just know he was following scent trails into the brush and doing a lot of barking. I also know that I couldn't read his body language because I couldn't see him.

Dawn is so different that dusk because the light is following your eyes' adjustment to the dark instead of the other way around. After the first ten minutes of feeling my way along I was able to walk with more confidence because I could see the rocks and the uneven surface. But I was also able to see the river and the Palisades on the other side. I often get to see the light traveling down the cliffs as the sun rises, even while our side is still in shadows, blocked by the Spuyten Duyvil-Riverdale ridge. This morning, though, I was seeing the cliffs lit more diffusely, by the entire brightening sky. I have no words to describe it, but it was riveting. I kept stopping just to look.

Prophet was still chasing around after those mysterious critters. I am always aware of his parallel sensory universe, in which the landmarks and objects of interest he notes overlap with mine but do not coincide. This morning it seemed as though the overlapping zone was much smaller than usual. We were attending to totally different things and were largely unaware - incapable of being aware - of what was interesting the other.

This dog is a gift. He gets me up and out every day. He gets me looking and thinking. He lifts my spirits. I try to do the same for him.