We lived where dogs can run free:
desert and gringo “farms and ranches”
suburban kitsch adobes,
built without solar awareness
but with six delicious chickens
and a doleful box turtle.
Annie, the dog I liked:
airedale bred for lion hunting.
Looking for things to hunt
her soft happy eyes burned underneath.
She left home for days
and brought back exhilaration.
Stories followed from neighbors and farbors.
Feathers strewed, broken hutch.
Could we believe this about such a sweet one?
Compared to other dogs she had heart and audacity.
She was hated by the horses who tried to kick her.
Once she flew at the throat of one.
I loved a dog who wasn’t a spineless wuss:
we had to send her to the mountains,
where she found the hatchery
and trout in a pond.
Threw them on the bank by the hundreds,
the manager shot her…
Livin' on the coy/dog boundary
without the submissive genome?
Do we lose heart by example?
Are dogs that only lick our plates
behind our backs what we want?
Will we become like them?
