Sunday, October 20, 2013
What a Little Dog Knows by Chi-Ping
I’m just a little dog, but I know what I saw; it wasn’t good. A flicker of black so quick, you doubt you saw it. You feel vaguely unsettled without knowing why. You dismiss it. It was nothing. But I saw it.
Dad told me to take care of mom; he loves her. The dark thing comes around selling bitterness and so much more. I tried to warn Lola; that wasn’t dad she stood staring at the night she died. Disease overwhelmed her, blood refused to clot; all the medicine didn’t help as she wanted to go with the impostor. Lola died; dad wouldn’t have taken her from mom. So sad, forlorn we took Lola’s body to the vet. I worry how to tell mom of the threat.
Dogs have been cursed to know so much and yet, we do not speak in a way you understand. What quirk of fate prevents your comprehension of my meaning? Could it be an angry deity, or witchcraft? Or is it that same dark force that seeks my mom?
Blondie gets consumed with anger sometimes. She goes up in the hills sniffing and killing rodents to burn this rage off. She comes back spent, so dog tired, she fell asleep dreaming about our friend Stormy, when the truck that ran him over came rumbling up the road. She turned in circles before heading after that monster truck. No one is safe from demons.
Oh, I’m just a little dog; what do I know?