By Ben Winderman
I have been stuck under that rock, pinned down by the rush of water. But now it is late summer, and the river has fallen, and I have been fighting so long that my legs have grown stronger, and I am lifting that rock, and sliding out from beneath it. First I am a crayfish, then a snake, then a frog, then a squirrel, then a dog, then a man, and then back to a dog.
Fifteen years would be enough for me. I hope I can catch a Frisbee. I don’t want to be a hyper lunatic, and I don’t want to just sit on someone’s lap. I’d like for there to be kids around. I’d like to eat people food. Make me a mid-sized mix: some beagle, some lab, some boxer, and some pit. Give me a fabric collar, a fair owner, and the Pennsylvania wilderness at my paws.