(Olive Press/Phoenicia Times January, 2010)
Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone, little dog gone, little dog gone? Seriously, WHERE HAS MY DOG MOSES GONE???!? My dog has been coming back from somewhere up the hill and bit by bit has been getting fatter. It’s like he’s swallowed a slightly deflated beach ball. I have a theory that maybe he’s gone to a place where people throw bread out for birds. Another theory: maybe he’s going on a game show called “The Opposite of Biggest Loser.” Contestants—all dogs—eat as much as they can, and go home to their owners who have no idea what happened to them. Moses wins the game but all he wins is a big tummy. (I think he was hoping to win a car—a Smart Car—that he could stick his head out the window of, flashing his tongue at everyone). Maybe some man invites him into his home thinking Moses is a poor orphan dog. He goes into the neighbor’s house, sits at a mini doggie table, with a fresh bowl of water and napkin tucked in his little collar. The neighbor man tells Moses to put his pinky up when he drinks tea and to dab his little beard daintily after he’s eaten. When Moses is finished, he says, “thank you very much,” in dog and comes home, sneaky as a snake. He’s a dog of mystery. I worry about him. He could be making friends with the wrong sort: raccoons, crows, foxes. I imagine that he’s having a great time though. I guess I’ll just trust him for now—until he comes back with an inappropriate tattoo that is.