Preface: I shouldn’t put this out there yet, but damn I love dogs. This to whet appetites for things to come.
I don’t remember any of this but somehow it is with me.
I remember there being nothing better than a dog prostrate on the floor with my fingers curled in the fur of the belly and my face pressed against the fur of the back, thick and curled and full of dander and dirt, but thick and curled and soft too. My fingers on the soft belly fur and the pink belly skin doing circles in the fur with a hypnotized dog breathing heavily and steadily under my arm, in my hold. My face and in particular my nose that is cold from the cold and the coming autumn outside, and more over cold from the crying is warm now against the back of the dog that lies there unknowingly being this thing like an anchor of hope. There is blood on my face and now snot from my nose and tears from my eyes that soak the dog but the dog still, placid and accepting, comes close enough to sleep only so that it rests but that it can still absorb the touching and through this apply what unknowing comfort it can to the wounds. Nothing so passive has ever been so good for a person.