Clio has just chewed to pieces
one of her oldest and favorite-est toys:
plush pheasant with squeaker inside.
she is asleep now,
and looks totally exhausted,
I like the way little pieces of stuffing
form a halo around her head…
the way her leash loops casually
around her upper right side
before emerging over and under her legs
like a piece of Celtic ropework in a canine Book of Kells.
Dogs are divine beings,
loving others more than themselves
each a perfection,
a bodhisattva of mysterious compassion.
But in a few moments she will move,
confused and mildly dismayed
by the sudden appearance
of a pee spot right beside
my parent’s old stuffed chair.