All Light That Does Not Waver: A Dog's Story

Somewhere Else

There were tall people with you. They seemed nervous, but pleased. Your voices floated around somewhere that smelled like clean and papers rustled. 

I was poked and prodded a bit. Not by you. Other people. 

You wouldn't take no for an answer. Perhaps you were a lion, I wondered, for all of that golden about her head was thrown about when you talked. 

A door opened. 

I was next to you and the tall people, I was under their eyes and on about six feet of probation, but I was free.