Freedom

Tick i tick i tick i tick.

He’s the happiest dog I have ever seen.

In the rain, dread lumps thumping as he bounce-struts down the road in Bella Coola.

I cannot see his eyes as they are covered with natty-mats. He boogies, yah, boogies down the middle of the road in the torrential rain, not stopping for cars, not moving for nobody. He is freedom.

“Oh my Gawd, look at that cute dog, he is so haute couture, so rule breaker.” I want to save him, to cut out his knots, to shave him bald,  douche him in formaldehyde and give him a second chance.

At what?

I see him bouncing around all weekend, like the nerd at the party who just doesn’t get it, like a shadow.

Digging in the garbage, gorging on corn on the cob, chasing his tail at the convenience mart. A happily spinning whirling dervish tranced out on his own knits.I think he may turn in on himself like anti-matter or possibly lift right off.

I see him boppin’ with the kids on Sports Day, tripping them up, running longer and stronger than I have ever seen any wolf on a nature show run.

“Get that fuckin’ dog outta here!” an angry dad screams, kicking at it.

Not a problem. Freedom bounces onward. Tick i tick i tick.

No one would miss him; the winters up here are brutal. It would do him good I imagine. Could he live on two walks a day? A collar? Organic dog food?

 

I couldn’t imagine touching him let alone catching him to get him in the car. It’s pouring down rain, buckets. The streets are flooding and he is all on his own. A knight running off into the darkness to fight a battle, to tame a maiden, to chew up a lion, to sleep in his own stink.

His life, if it lasts, much shorter than most, is still better.

I watch him from afar. I let Freedom be.