Even sunken stones float

"My only interest is agreeing on the future."

Having lived for a decade in daily fear of a morning, or evening, riptide, for four years, now, I have lived quietly and alone, a halcyon life with my eleven-year-old Golden Retriever, a semi-retired (B minus) Service Dog who sleeps a lot. Yesterday, on a walk Kear saw the remainder of a pizza slice, not just the crust, resting near the curb. He smelled it before I saw it.

It was calling to him: ”I am here.”

Kear, always the hungry dog, nose an inch from the ground, received the slice’s message in his olfactory bulb at least 20 feet away. What a shock. As if that nose could miss a pumpkin seed.