Domesticated Dogs
Oct 23 2022
The dogs slept through it.
In the back seat, nestled together,
lulled
by the car's familiar motion
the engine's steady drone.
Just as I remember
as a child in the family car,
night driving
in that cozy twilight state
between sleep, and wakefulness.
Completely trusting
in my dad at the wheel,
never imagining
anything bad
could happen to us;
serenely sure
it was always others who crashed.
All except, that is, the nestling;
3 territorial brothers
who kept as far apart as possible.
Not a collision.
Rather, a juvenile deer
on the quiet suburban street.
My dogs' superpower of smell
apparently useless here,
their predatory heritage
mostly bred out of them.
The bewildered forest animal,
skittering on the pavement
on its long lean legs
and dainty feet,
all hair-trigger instinct
and hyper-vigilance.
Caught
between panic and paralysis
it froze for a second
in our blinding lights,
before darting off like a shot
and vanishing behind a house.
Meanwhile, my domesticated dogs slept.
The old girl's heavy breathing
erupting into snores,
and the young one
who runs in her dreams
pumping her legs
and emitting strangled yelps.
Or perhaps they were fully aware
but jaded realists:
knowing they hadn't a chance
of catching that deer;
no clue what to do
if they did.
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