Paul S Piper

Dog sees white. Arctic light, the bright buzz in the brain of pure crystal adrenaline. In a flash he is out the door and across the street looking for snowshoe hares, caribou, cats. His wild ancestry ignited, Dog plunges his nose into snow up to his eyes. He sees his dreams. Master yells from the front porch but Dog can’t hear him. Dog hears nothing except the roar of the wind across the tundra, the ancient existential cry of wolves, pure, devastating, hungry. Time for crunchies. Taking many detours, Dog returns to the porch. Let master think what he wants. Freedom comes at a price.