W A L L A C E: A Portrait For Barb

Wallace, you are ever in the Present Moment, while we, your companion humans, get lost on the downward slope of the Past, or that rare uplift into the Future. But you summon us back to backyards and back alleys or to a back court in which you run wide circles around us, as if you would fence us in. You are always studying ways you can run freely, your nose raised high to sniff the air that promises you the Dog-Wealth we will ever applaud. It is one-third your fleet freedom and two-thirds your clinging devotion. No matter how far pump your legs on lawn or sidewalk or dirt road, you always circle back to walk at our side to places we both recognize as our stamping ground. And in-doors you can practice your vocation to seek sleep whenever the world seems to be sleeping, and you stretch out and breathe deeply, until sleep arrives like a punctual friend and covers your memory with Dog-Delights. I'm sure you dream of barking other dogs to submission, of striding proudly next to GiGi, of making the most out of the hours that begin with a sneeze of excitement, move with quiet dignity through dog-day afternoons and into your night sleep, when you are utterly fulfilled and do not have to dream of happiness. It is all around you. 'Wuf, wuf, ' you bark the truth, because this is your time to love and cherish.