Home
Print|Email|Text Size: ||
One Truth of Dogs

Late November the corn is in, stubs

litter the ground, frozen and thawed

a dozen times since Veteran’s Day.

Gopher mounds poke up then collapse

across the lawn. This morning I find

bear scat halfway down the drive,

coming or going I can’t say. While

I stand and think, Don Armstrong’s

truck bounces across the rows, belching

exhaust. Whatever is he doing?

Then I see his dog Evie at the wheel,

the windows cranked down, her ears

flapping in the wind. A crazed smile

pushes hips across her teeth. I stare

in disbelief until my dog bumps

against my legs and says, “You weren’t

ever suppose to see this.”

Print|Email

More From The Bark

Afghan
By
Denise Kirshenbaum
By
Ian Shoales
By
Hannah Holmes
By
Joshunda Sanders
By
John L. Shepherd
Three Dogs Art
By
Laurie Notaro
More in Stories & Lit:
SoCal Coyote Encounter
A Pup with a Sting Allergy
How I Found My Dog Carson
Part-Time Puppies
Tula
Walking with Misty
My Dog Murphy
Healing Fraught History of African Americans and Dogs
The Great Unwashed
My Canine Co-Counselor