THE CHRONICLES OF ZOE DOG

Zoe's Wake

  Sometimes I notice that my roommate Richard pops his thumb knuckles. I asked him about it once, and he said he did that to see if he was still alive. That didn't make sense to me at all, but I'm just a dog and I don't have thumb knuckles. If I did, I might pop them too, just to be sure I was alive. Usually, I just go to sleep.

Zoe's wake:

 The squirrel gets up on its hind legs, looks Zoe in the face and screams, "Yo bitch, I'm talking to you! Do you want a piece of me?! I'm ready! Take your best shot bitch! Let's get it on! Semper Fi!" Zoe twitches and twitches. "Bitch fight! Bitch fight! Oh how I love a bitch fight, because I'm a bitch!" Barney, with his dust pan and brush in hand, starts cleaning up the squirrel entrails and brains from the floor. He mutters, "Every squirrel has a plan, until it gets chomped."

 Terracotta monocots dance across the stage, spinning, and then dance back the other way. The impresario emerges from behind the stage curtains and says, "Let's here it for all of these beautiful young flowers!" Parents in the audience applaud enthusiastically.

Then the impresario begins a monologue, "Can this immense universe we live in be controlled directly by one thing? Can that thing be revealed to us? If it exits, is it a being, or a force we don't understand, or ... might it be Liquid Squid, known among her species as the "Great Mother"? She invisibly swims the seas unknown to mankind. Her knowledge and grace is legendary to those who know of her. She assumes many forms and avatars. Her Hindu avatar is Brahma, the deity that created the world, or so it is said. Is Liquid Squid's supremacy any greater a stretch than that of Jesus Christ, Allah, Bahá’u’lláh, or Krishna? Is she not as readily recognized because her natural form is that of a cephalopod?"

Well, they asked the Old Dog. He said, "Maybe so, but I'm not sure. I'm just a dog."

The impresario then said, "And what about the meerkats? Where do they fit into this picture? Are they merely marginal gloss for this profundity? Do they know or care? Does only having four toes on each foot set them back?"

The Old Dog just walked away without responding.

 The semi-plastic, young woman entered the room. Her feet barely touched the floor. She was tall and thin and completely naked. No one noticed at all. She said to all who were gathered there, "Yea verily give unto me all of thine iniquities and I shall enshrine them in the palaces of Sodom, in Nevada."

 Ione Babbitt was a friend of mine. She always called me Brucewing. She was a big woman and strong. Even after they lobotomized her and made her dumb as a newborn lamb, she was powerful. She once hugged a nurse and broke the nurse's ribs. Every day she wore one of the cheap, ugly, cotton hospital dresses that almost all of the women wore. She had no clothes of her own and no relatives to bring her things. Her hair was gray. She always had a big, empty grin on her face, some missing teeth, and some long hairs on her chin. She sat on the porch of the ward every day and rocked in a rusty metal rocking chair, waiting for me to come to work. Each evening when I arrived and greeted her, she picked me up and squeezed me while saying with the utmost affection, "Kiss my hairy ass, Brucewing." I would bring her in for dinner and help her to the cafeteria, otherwise she wouldn't know to come eat.

 The old man came up to the large, wooden monastery door and lightly knocked. After a while, a young monk opened the door. The old man said, "I want to live here." The young monk closed the door. The old man waited patiently. An older monk opened the door, ushered the old man in, and lead him to the kitchen. The monk gave him a pail of soapy water and a brush. The old man began cleaning the floor and smiled.

Pop! Pop! "Uh, oh, guess it's time to wake up. Richard's checking again to see if he's still alive. I wish I could thumb knuckle pop to reaffirm that I too am alive."

Yes, it's good to become unconscious from time to time. A lot of things go on down there—swim around down there—that can be helpful, but that also can be confusing.


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We’re living in a fluid universe, in which the art of faith is not in taking one’s stand, but in learning to swim. ~ Alan Watts