Cow-Dog

.

A little dog looked in my direction. Black and white speckles, flecked his flesh, ears perked. The tongue stopped flapping happily, catching me in his gaze, unmoving.

what did he think? —I gave him a name. “Cow-dog”. I took him in as mine. He was mine.

running to me, in frantic excitement, tail wagging, ears relaxed, whimpering cries, happily jumping into my lap—

”so happy to see you!”, it was almost telepathic.

Did Cow-dog know me? did he know the tears? Did he know what the police told me?

did he know they found my brother? My brother—

He was mine. He came up to me. I know he did, he gave me a doggy’s signature kiss.

Cow-dog, did you know they found him? Did you hear my screams, my sobs? Did you know he was in there for days? His fingers were black, he went to sleep. The room was dark.

He was mine, he looked on in wonder. If he was mine, why was he so far? If he was mine, why was that man taking him away? Where did the blue leash come from? Where are you taking him?

Didn’t you know it was my last time? Didn’t you know they wouldn’t let me see him? Didn’t you know, they came in with cameras? They walked away with the stretcher? They told me to remember him as I last saw him. Cold hands on my shoulder, I couldn’t hear anything…

Cow-dog, you were my last hope. A peace offering to my shattered psyche. A last bastion of hope. You looked for me when the world went silent and my mind melted into mushy matter.

You knew me for me, in a moment.