A Tragical Tale

She has a fever. I leave her dozing fitfully on the veranda. Halfway to the woods there is a farm gate where she will often squat and piss. The grass is brown, but still thrives, strangely adapted to uric rain. Paris the giant poodle is here, his nose a rapier seeking past and present. Several dogs from good families arrive to vie with each other in search of her ‘wherefore art thou?’ Tragically, Romeo (a bulldog neutered last week), today plays alone with his squeaky bone.