Monday, July 17, 2006


This is one of my Alaska pictures--the home of
Susan Butcher, four time (I think) winner of the
Iditarod, and her current team. She is an amazing
woman, an inspiration to all us women to go for
whatever it is we're seeking, without fear.
Unfortunately, she's currently battling her biggest
fight--cancer--and I don't know her condition at
this time. She has a beautiful husband and two
young daughters, as courageous as their mom. Send
good thoughts to her, it can't hurt.

Saw a man and his dog last evening, out walking,
last rays of sun highlighting the dog's silky coat,
and I was suddenly overcome with longing for my
old pal, Zack, and how he loved me so tirelessly,
so unconditionally. Without fail, his eyes would
tell me he KNEW when I was sad or sick or just
had the blues. I was his god(dess). How the hell
often does that happen to us in this world?

At this point in my life I'm a gypsy and there's just
no way for a new dog. But one of these days I'll settle
down again and then...

For Zack and Mollie and Maggie and Black Maggie
and Burt, and all the canine friends I've known:


There was a field we used to walk,
my yellow dog and I, down by the corn.
In those days, back when it rained enough,
you could almost hear the tall stalks growing.

Zack was a long-legged puppy then,
in that time when there was enough
of rain and summer days stretching out
endlessly as the long green fields.

Today I watch a man and his dog
walking down by the corn in a dry season,
and I'm remembering clumsy, lumbering paws
crossed over my hands that last morning

we never think will come,
and how Zack brought a dream that night
of a bouncing, yellow pup by my side,
his coat full of light and soft as summer rain.

- mimi


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