Dogs are natural scavengers They have the stomach for it I remember Beth swallowed some decaying squirrel whole Its tail hanging out of her mouth for the longest time Nothing ever became of it I always wondered where the deer went when they died The forest was always a pantheistic land of wonder As the snow tickled our noses Lexie was nowhere to be found I laughed it off and yelled for her Then yelled and yelled Then ran and abruptly stopped Lexie tenderly edging toward the deer carcass Shy even Then the bump on the bridge of her nose appeared A couple months later, in an unusual spring heat Lexie leaves the trail With a straightforward earnestness We walk an unfamiliar side–path Cross an undiscovered stream Another carcass prone to the sun A vulture crouched in an adjacent tree Impatient for our departure The bump on her head reappeared at the top Lexie was given two months to live And, at that other river, Her jaw too weak to grip the large branches so much a part of her This third carcass Peaceful, laying amid the thorns One does not begrudge one condemned to death to take their fill of death Not one lick of impropriety We filled our days with walks We denied ourselves none of our walks We partook Peace
Tag: Lexie
Night Fetching
It’s a pleasant night First one in a while I haven’t taken Lexie fetching for a while either — overworked So, instead of taking a right we take a why not Can’t see a moon to light our way but the suburb lights reflect in the pink clouds Park closed at dark Park Authority I'll tell them I didn’t see I don’t even know if she’ll want to fetch She’s all sniffs I let her off leash — no running to the stream As we pass it by She shyly deviates tween path and brook Only when I go off–path does her tail wag and her feet scamper to water I᾿m surprised to find the stream half–frozen a sheet of ice spreads towards the middle No sticks around, so I climb onto the tree fallen across the stream and fetch one there amidst the debris Will she need daylight to see or is it some other sense? I throw it into the stream and she fetches it back I throw it in again; she’s taking a while she needs daylight, I guess Here comes Lexie dragging this mythical log Strange, pure, hewn branch from the river bottom Not waterlogged, just heavy in solidity She can’t even drag it out of the water just up to the shore and tears off half its bark in one bite So, over and over, mythical log to be dredged from the bottom of icy river on beautiful night Headlights peek at me for a while and fade an ambulance siren blares a police copter circles around Mocking my fears — no one cares Lexi scampers around the sheet of ice not finding the branch in the depths “Get it!” I cheer, and she goes in and drags it out again
Creative Child
We go on our walk Leash slung around my torso Stick resting on my shoulder Me, in boots and hat The master understander of social obligations to fellow path–takers barker of commands thrower of the stick gazing ahead at her Her happiness mine She, naked to the world The child wagging her tail and shyly, naïvely approaching all comers reluctant heeder joyful fetcher exploring the vast world of earthly treasures surrounding us
Refraction
A hard scientific concept to explain light It knows the fastest route ahead of time and bends as it transitions, veers course joyously following some cosmic efficiency depending on the medium in which it finds itself I throw the stick far down the creek thinking to guide Lexi into a long swim with natural instinct she trots lengthwise down the watery beach and, in happenstance, selects the most efficient entrance to dive into the deep Then there were those long minutes she spent at the edge of the pool Determinedly awaiting the stick to drift to her
Fall Fetching
The scene dimmed with a gentle rush of wind as the leaves fell into the stream The dreamlike matte blurring of the surface as the sunken leaves glowed like gems All the while, soft droplets innocently danced with their distinctive expansion everywhere Followed by heavier drops, deeper, not intrusive — on another level, ringing out — And the kersplash and the wake of my dog causing huge ripples, yet still harmonious with all the beautiful blustery co–action Wispy winds brush over the water with their own tickling touch The wind and a pleasant rain come up from behind me, pushing me towards the vast coverage of webs of undulations all clearly distinct, all meshing together in a beautiful, delicious, mystifying fall day of fetch
Waterlogged
Sticks are too small to waste her time with Only branches will do I break a nice big one down to 5 feet we walk down to the stream We could go on and on forever casting and fetching I throw it out beyond the bend she stops as she approaches it her face all perplexity and looks into the water just under her With a strange backward digging effort she thrashes dives her head into the water and exhumes a waterlogged 12–foot branch With glee, she trots back with it Sometimes, she’ll voraciously chew up an over–sized log dredged from the depths biting away in continuous joy and concentrated angst with the occasional bit of wood wedged in her teeth Sometimes, she’ll disintegrate the whole thing to shreds This time, we cast and fetch over and over a rainbow in each splash Too big for us to carry away in comfort
Distance to Water
Luria Park, I knew since my youth On a field trip there, I found an ant creature Upon magnifying the water in a microscope It was there I learned that Lexi loved the water and was afraid to swim And walking back from there with her We bumped into and a cousin of Lexi’s, Nico and his kind owner Jim who suggested the path to the nearby lake where we’d later teach her to swim Then there are the two parks nearby which Evi and Anyu once graced which I go to for a change of pace Lexie even discovered the dog park by her own intuitive pulling one day And my brother suggested the nearby nature center which offered its own mystical stream journey under the beltway And that bike ride down Camelot which revealed the trail with a new, wide stream that I have yet to take her to And for all this wonder, she just wants to be fetching in the water
Little Time for a Little Love
We cross the bridge and the water there is perfect, wide and deep with a soft beach for entry Cast, cast, cast Swim, swim, swim Fetch, fetch, fetch While Lexie furtively fetches I lean upon the rusting railing in repose After a fetch, I calmly gaze upon a pair of yellow–winged butterflies Hip, hop, hip, hop, along the beach One flutters a foot; the other follows Then, stillness; their wings parallel, vertical The moment holds its breath while still calmly breathing easy, like the gentle breeze that crowns us Wings open Her wings open in one majestic bloom neither slow nor fast not confident or timid but all those things and none such she unfolds her world to him He gazes upon her pattern while another epoch quietly breathes withheld breath He pounces upon her Her wings fly up, a Venus encircling him My heart exalts that such ravishing peace could exist in the world My brain, dizzy, torn asunder How long, I wonder, could this incredible little bliss be permitted to exist I pause, grateful for each second as Lexie pleads for another fetch Lest she bark, I contrive to throw the branch over the other side But, upon my first movement, she careens down the sand into the water He disappears She hops from one rock to the other and back to their love-patch in despair, love–lost. In a fortunate bizarre twist, Lexi goes under the bridge and up the other side Lady butterfly hops I wait, another epoch Just a half epoch He comes from nowhere and, instantly, they rejoin in their double–V Down the path we go, to leave them to the delight of the world I have to laugh at myself for thinking 30 minutes enough for eternity for, when we double–back later and I've promised Lexie a proper romp in the perfect water, I realize that she’s disturbed them again