It’s Sunday morning, and I’m walking on Main Street in downtown Sturgis, still buzzed from last night — and still uncertain whether I knocked boots with Joey from Skokie, his old lady, or both.

Three cups of coffee later, I remember that I didn’t go gay. All I did was lay pipe on Joey’s old lady while Joey stood at the foot of the bed and rubbed one out.

Thank God I went down on Mrs. Joey when Joey splattered the wall — or else I’d need intense therapy.

I can’t finish a fourth coffee, so I toss the now-cold styro cup into a trash can and cut on over to Main Street, where I’d parked my bike in front of the Oasis. As I dig out my keys, I see a medium-sized dog with short reddish hair, tail tucked, and looking lost, standing near my bike.

I kneel, hand extended, heart open. The dog sniffs and, with a wag that seems like approval, becomes my partner for the day. We name each other without words. In the wag of a tail and the warmth of a hand, we speak a silent language of trust.

Together, we roam the rally, each spectacle more vivid through the eyes of the other. I laugh more, my soul lighter as we navigate the labyrinth of bikes and people.

Day turns to night, and our bond deepens, lessons whispered in wag and woof. Loyalty isn’t a chain but a choice.

Then we stumble upon a man, eyes frantic, face lined with worry. “Rusty!” he exclaims, recognizing his dog.

I give Rusty one last ear scratch, all smiles, like tuning an old radio and hearing a long-forgotten song. Life’s a curious dance.

Copyright © 2023 L.T. Hanlon