I believe that dogs dream.
On a feather bed, snuggled behind someone’s knees,
On the hard ground, tied at the neck to a chain,
In a cage at the pound,
The paws stretch and stroke the air,
A little guttural noise rumbles in the throat.
Sometimes a whimper slips out,
An ear twitches.
Behind the dog’s closed eyes,
A squirrel scurries in the leaves,
Chipmunk dives for cover in a woodpile.
Delivery truck roars up the drive.
Man staggers from his truck, in heavy boots,
With an angry voice.
Child runs squealing with delight across the yard.
Another dog stands in the road and stares.
I believe that dreams are the proof of soul.
Watching a dog stir quietly in his sleep,
Convinces me that I will see him again in heaven.
And how could heaven be
Without a dog?
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