Loki is in his youth again.
As long as no one calls the humane society.
The old dog on the porch, connecting to his past, his future, his return.
His happy hunting grounds the tundra.
Behind the garage.
Even as far as the neighbor's yard.
On cold days, running in through Blackstone Park like he's going to make it this time.
Somewhere.
I'm not sure where.
Just the mission of getting there, imbedded primordial in his brain.
Before order.
Chaos.
Where, or where to go?
Where of where to return?
Aww...our old sweet pup :)
Posted by: wifey | January 31, 2007 at 06:43 PM