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The Cactus Spine

The cactus spine impaled though the nail of my right index finger two months ago has just now grown out. The relief is surreal. The pain had been excruciating. It is the story of the mouse and the lion with the thorn in the paw.


Except without the mouse.


They are living in my ceiling and are no help at all.


My two companions are my incongruent dogs: one looks like a cross between a chihuahua and a whippet. She’s so small, so smart and needs to sleep anywhere but on the floor because it’s too cold for her skeletal frame. The other appears to be a blend all the dogs that are big in the world: black lab, husky, American stanford, Boxer, Pitbull and he keeps moving from place to place on the floor because over time his body so thoroughly warms up each spot he needs to leave it for another. restless sleeping, that. You can feel the heat that has lingered under your bare foot if you walk across the spot where he was just sleeping.


I love watching the pigs drink greedily from the spout of water issuing from the hose in my hand. I loathe the film of dust that’s on everything 12 hours after I’ve washed it.


I awake earlier and earlier each day and so get to see the dawn more fully and thus with more reverence and it is humbling. And I don’t need to stand on ceremony for anyone at night, there’s no one else here but already sleeping dogs, so I often fall asleep shortly after the sun has set.


Also, Internet pop up ads get really rude after 10 pm.


And so, dear readers, here it is. my hesitant return to this blog. I will make the effort to shake off the rest of the rust and produce more to keep your interest from flagging. Thank you for taking another chance on me, and coming back.


Originally published January 28, 2013

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