First Incidents

Blueberry sky.  A still wind, silent, and lingering, like flatulence.  Temperature is low-feverish.  Sounds of claws tic against cement and eastward something furry appears, its low growl and leather collar an indication that danger may be present. I am here.

It is one of those profound and profane moments when the universe seems to recoil upon itself as I stare into the dog’s eyes, connecting, understanding, and fearing for my life. Someone once said animals harbor great wisdom, although the person was not a vegetarian and hunted regularly, and therefore, of questionable trustworthiness.   In an aggressive huff, the canine lifts its head as if to speak.  I am frozen.

Fear has its own translation.   His words rumble through the growl.  Beware of dogma…beware of dogma.

By ccxander

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