Gyroscope Review 15-3 - Page 62

Remnants by Michael Maul Young or old, by the time they get to me these dogs have already travelled a long way. Their path to my door passes first through adult daughters and sons, whose new circumstances (college, babies, careers, divorce) suddenly make life with dogs impossible. In the air, they can smell the change. They trot to the cupboard where I keep boxed treats, while sneaking sideways peeks into corners where they could sleep, or glance down hallways toward unfamiliar rooms. Then I lay a blanket on the floor and the new dog begins to scratch and bunch, dig and pile and adjust, lifting corners with its teeth or plowing furrows with its nose. And lays down when complete, exhaling in relief, signaling the change is done: he has a space and found someone. So on we live, in good-natured ways through happy-enough dog and people days, some touched by sickness, some by age. But at the door each day begins when all stretch out, then leash in hand, one by one come out again.
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