Maybe I found a dead body today, and saw the first beaver of spring.

Well, I don't know if I actually found a dead body - my imagination wanders off by itself sometimes.
Took the dogs to run at the river park at daybreak. I was thinking of pleasant, pastoral little things to write. About how nice it is for dogs to be able to run and roll in grass and charge through stands of muddy bullrushes. About the first beaver of spring, plowing through the wide water and slapping her tail. Wondering if I should be careful of the dogs finding a Canada goose nest - there's a pair there every morning. The orange sun lighting up the bare trees and wide gray river, the redwings - harbingers of spring - the ducks, the frozen ponds.
Walking down the trail, a pair of crumpled jeans on the path. Then an aqua terry sweatshirt. And a substantial, rolled up baggie of pot, wrapped tightly with a blue elastic band. Daphne was near the bushes, blissfully rolling on - what? Goose poop? skunk pee? Or (cue "Jaws"theme music, da DA da DAdaDAdaDADADADA....) - something more....sinister? Daphne stood; started barking with her hackles up. I called the dogs to me, leashed them. Thinking of all the "woman walking dogs discovered the body..." news stories I've seen.
I had my cell with me, so called 911 - actually felt a bit silly - surely it's just the scene of some Friday night druggie fight, whatever. They asked me to wait for a cop, so I did. The whole place was deserted, so I walked the dogs back to the park area and let them run. Twenty minutes later, a cop pulls up, I told him what I'd seen and where. He took my phone number, asked a few questions, said thank you and drove off down the trail. I left, dropped the dogs off at the house and drove back along the river about twenty minutes later, curious.
Cop car was still there, lights going bloop, bloop, bloop. Go figure - half the murders here don't even make it to the news. So maybe there really was a dead body in the bushes, or in the water. It's a deserted area; I've found (sniff) dead mangled pitbulls dumped along there. Fucking lowlife crackhead dogfighting trash people here. And what does it say about me, that I'm more sad about dead dumped pitbulls, than a (possibly) dead lowlife human?

Well, that was more interesting than writing about beavers or happy dogs. Which I'll no doubt do later.