it feels as though I’m past

the pedigreed part of my life,

finished with bloodlines and credentials

done caring if he/she/it/we

are descended from a long line

of champions–“mister hester chester

of nestor farms” –done with leashes

done with heeling, with coming

when called, done

with staying for treats

it feels as though now

it’s the random genes of the pound

and the hardiness of the unexpected mutt

as if from now until animal control

finally sweeps me up

from the street

it’s nose to the wind, feet in the mud

and burrs in the long fur

it’s chasing whatever moves

and rolling in the dead stuff

it’s running all day and licking whoever

and whatever needs to be licked

it’s smelly and dirty and deliciously wet

from here on out–it’s sleeping

like a dog

© J.A. Fink  2013