The Lost Time

Sassy June In The Snow


It makes me want to cry, thinking of her, all those years, born and growing in the wrong place.

How could we have known?

As we walked our trails in sun and wind, rain and snow, light and dark. As we shared canned ham and chili dogs and Slim Jims.

As we rode where we pleased, the window open, and you not poking your nose out through it as dogs are supposed to do.

To think she languished in unhappiness as we arrived at the top of Nishan Hill and all the world was beautiful and perfect. Even the thorns that prick us are perfect elements in this perfect world. We drip perfect blood.

The hugs and kisses and “My beautiful boy!” Freedom to come and go and chase rabbits or sleep in a mound of Autumn’s dried leaves.

Where was she as we navigated a thousand walks, two thousand days, four thousand meals, eight trips to the vet? Seventeen stitches and that stupid plastic lampshade and you unable to walk after the vestibular syndrome.

As we both slowed.

Miles and getting there no longer the goal, nor metered and measured allotted times. Living in the right now always and growing closer than even we knew was possible.

It hurts to think of her lonely, scared, or cowering, or treated in any way less than a perfect gift from our Cosmos.

I wonder now if she ever remembers. A family, and children, to which she was bonded no matter the circumstances. I wonder if she thinks of now. I’m hoping now is filled with love and joy and comfort, and let’s leave it at that.

And I wonder if she ever thinks… “All those years.”



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Let’s stay here.

At this intimately familiar bend in the trail.

Beneath these trees we know by name.


We are not compelled to move.

There is no war or fire or calamity or threat that coerces us to flee.

There is not a clock or timer that will sound an alarm if we linger here.


Let’s hold this now.

Treasure its very essence, bury our noses within and inhale deeply.

Savor the scent and the warm and cold, the rough and smooth, dark and light of it all.


Locked onto one another’s gaze.


Let’s stay here.



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Our Time

Chuy the Wonderdog


You wrack your brain seeking words

To describe a life spent without them.

To hold up, canonize, memorialize,

Constructed poems and homespun gems.

You try so hard to commit to memory

All those days of you and me.

Halcyon times, seasons without care,

The past, and trails that lead us there.

You dissect and contemplate.

To behold wonders held within.

To pierce the veil, catch the sun,

To hold the world on which we spin.

Your heart doth grieve, tears shall fall,

And mourning black you’ll wear for years.

When I am now most perfect and free,

I cannot comprehend your tears.


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Chuy Drives The Power Wagon

Many of the laws of Dog Nature can be applied to or interpreted for humans.

Many of the laws of Human Nature could never exist in a dog.




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We should all have a Chuy.

There are always plenty of chores to do around the ranch.

He would look me up after I’d worked long enough.

“Enough mowing.” he’d say, “Come on. Let’s play ball.”


“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” they say.

Everyone should have a Chuy.



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Chuy In The Leaves


If you were here I would kiss your face.

Where am I to send these kisses

Without you?

I kiss our kindred 

Mother Earth.

Peaceful Rest


Missing you,



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North Loop trail


We must always be bound somewhere.

Bound for adventure or bound for glory.

In the great wide world,

Your own back yard,

Your mind and spirit.

We must always be bound for somewhere,

Otherwise, we are simply




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