Lost Dog
By Ellen Bass
It's just getting dark, fog drifting in,
damp grasses fragrant with anise and mint,
and though I call his name
until my voice cracks,
there's no faint tinkling
of tag against collar, no sleek
black silhouette with tall ears rushing
toward me through the wild radish.
As it turns out, he's trotted home,
tracing the route of his trusty urine.
Now he sprawls on the deep red rug, not dead,
not stolen by a car on West Cliff Drive.
Every time I look at him, the wide head
resting on outstretched paws,
joy does another lap around the racetrack
of my heart. Even in sleep
when I turn over to ease my bad hip,
I'm suffused with contentment.
If I could lose him like this every day
I'd be the happiest woman alive.
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Between my covid and flu shots and being up too late trying to fix my computer -- I need a lawyer to read Dell's extended warranty for me and tell me whether they are actually obligated to fix the computer if I pay their $150 when the computer is five months out of the original warranty, because the language on their website is deliberately obfuscatory -- I didn't feel great on Friday. I spent the morning trying to deal with the computer, then went out to the post office and took a walk to the beach.
We were supposed to have dinner with Daniel and Cahaya, but they had sore throats and since we're both a bit under the weather from the covid shots, we figured we should postpone. So we had mulligatawny stew for dinner, watched this week's Billions -- fully Team Axe at this point -- and then some more Suits, which is fun because the guy who plays Wags on the former also plays Daniel Hardman on the latter. Some of the animals we met around Salmon Days in Issaquah, including the dog we helped rescue:
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