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Fencing Reality Out

Cooper thinks he is a big dog.
He keeps boasting about the size of his paws.

Boasting aside, the vet assures us
that his small paws are appropriate
to the amended state of his . . .
                           to his amended state.

We have a big beautiful wall
between us the herds of javelinas
who pass this way more than daily:
the big beautiful wall--truth be told--
is not really a wall, at all.  It is a fence,
but it keeps the javelinas out.

It cannot keep bobcats out,
nor coyotes, but Cooper does not know that.
He charges to the wall, threatening
to escalate hostilities to a nuclear point.

I have tried to explain to him
that there is more than one way
to get past a wall, or a fence,
but he won't listen.  He says
he is a bright dog, a very bright dog,
the brightest dog in his class,
that he is a graduate of the best
obedience and business-trick school,
and that we could not believe
how big his paws really are, really.

This morning, coyote drifted past
the bird feeder: one never knows
whether the fat Gambels quail are paying attention,
or whether the new javelina piglets might stray
in the confusion a coyote can create, just being a coyote.
Cooper charged to the fence, yelping
that the coyote should go back to where he came from,
which confused coyote no end, since
this is where he has been making a living
for as long as he can remember.

I guess Cooper figures a fence will change everything.
And it might, but not the way Cooper thinks.

If he thinks, at all.
Sometimes it is hard to know.

It is not really a dog-eat-dog world.
The dog is a late-comer.
Javelina and coyote were here first,
and truth be told, they are bigger.  And hungrier.












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