We’re driving fast through farmland
when a roadside man waves his arms:
Slow down! Slow down! A dog, mid-highway.
I stop, blocking the road, turn on flashers.
Rose leaps out. I join her. We’re dog people.

Rose can’t catch the dog.
The man is shouting “Grab her! Grab her!”
By size and shape the dog is a shepherd,
colored like a beagle, looking friendly as heck
but confused and frantic.

I suspect this shep-beagle just wants
somebody to tell her what to do,
so I crouch and call “Come!”
From the center of the highway she runs
straight to my outstretched hands.
I seize the collar and command “Sit!”
She sits.

The man waddles over and takes her by the collar.
He’s overweight, bald with a white beard, bad hips.
He says, “I know where she belongs.”

Now I check on the cars behind my flashers,
engines idling. Drivers waiting.
Are they annoyed?
Nope. Big smiles.
Dog  people.


© by Joe Cottonwood.
Used here with the author’s permission.