Don’t Touch

Ears back means, I don’t like you. I’ve learned this because Penny is a magnet. Even while sleeping in his preferred position on the sidewalk — something I call “dead-dogging-it”: lying on his side, four legs stuck out, head resting on one incredibly soft ear — he’s irresistible. Serious businessmen pass and can’t hold back…

By Jessie Eastland (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons


Looking for long-eared lopers in the hedgerows and wild-rosehip spreckled hillsides around this brown puddle backup to a backup reservoir — well maybe I’ll just admit now, everything easier to see clearly when soon abandoned — that it really is just water for the motorhomes motorboats and motormouths who spend the summers droning while the dog, my sister and I investigate the hardened pathways that lead both away and toward the parking lots.


The squirrels are going to lose today. There’s one now – on the top of the fence by the tree. I’m on it, ferocious, mustache quivering. They are relentless, small and grey. So am I. Another pops up on the opposite wall. Here I go! I don’t even have to bark. They see me and…