November 6, 2004

Dear Mr. Bush,

The dogs ran wild today, ganging up on smaller ones, running as fast as their legs could carry them, howling at the sun, scrambling through the dirt. The dogs ran wild today, streaking through the tall grass, jumping over rotting logs, rolling in the mud puddles. The dogs ran wild today, after balls and toys and sticks and shadows. The dogs ran wild today, chasing themselves, chasing their tails, chasing their own whims and loves and hopes. The dogs ran wild today, and never once, not even for a moment, did they think of you.

And we all stood there--old friends, new friends, lovers--in the last-chance heat of the early November sun and tried our best to do the same.

Hugs to the new pup,

Dan