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Postcards from a Lost Dog


by Darryl Price


I've seen some stuff. Let me 
tell you. There's much more love 
among people in the 
world than they let on. I
wish I could show you to 
your face. Now that's something
worth licking you. Also 
noted: most wild animals 

are fine with leaving 
you alone as long as 
you don't mess about with
them too much. It stresses 
them out. Even butterflies 
could kill you if you 
got them mad enough. But
the trees, oh, the trees, hear

everything and store all 
knowledge underground. They 
are the ancient sacred 
librarians of the 
history of the natural 
world. Did you know
there's a machine built just
for killing healthy trees? 

I kid you not. And they
painted the damned thing green!
How ironic is that?
It claws a tree right out
of the ground headfirst without
any mercy. Did 
you know all trees can feel 
the pain of other trees? 

They also can cry out, 
help! I suppose only
dogs hear that high wounded 
sound. It's as awful as
you'd imagine. The memory 
of which sometimes 
gives me nightmares. But back
to the love thing. I've witnessed

it in all fifty
states of consciousness. That's
a joke, but it's still true.
It goes merrily along
without saying. When
it ends, I suppose the 
world ends, but it hasn't 
yet. Not by a long shot.

I've received many a 
gentle touch from a stranger 
that instantly soothed 
my aching heart and bones, 
okay? They showed no fear 
and gave no restrictions 
to their kind hands upon 
my head. Tends to make one's 

tail wag more than usual. 
That and a nice, clean 
bowl of fresh water. Anyway, 
hope you're doing 
sort of well, even though 
I sure do miss you. Someday 
we'll see each other 
again. That will be great!


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