ESSAYS.

  • The Pit Bull Porch: “I am walking my dog through a February storm when my mom’s heart stops beating 300 miles away in her paralyzed body.”
  • Odd Bird: “A neighbor finds one of the yellow-crowned night herons tangled like a hanger in the street, alive over broken legs and a broken wing.”
  • Dogcatcher: “He closes the metal wire door and grabs a long silver pole with a hook at the end. He rams it through the door—the dog, terrified, flattens herself against the back wall and suddenly I regret bringing her to him.”
  • I am the Witness: Accidents in a Time of Trump (Letter to America): “I looked up as a red truck plowed through the light and T-boned the Trump car so hard it hit another car and all three spun like disintegrating asteroids.”
  • On The Last Kimball Caravan in Harrisburg, PA: “You take a few more pictures of the Kimball, focusing on the run of red keys with ‘trumpet’ as an option. The ‘m’ is worn away and you wish the ‘et’ had been worn away because that would have been perfect.”
  • Stardog Champions: “Raleigh ran for the river and fell into the night.”
  • Pit Bull Economics: “But then I see the pit bull hit the gate which does what it isn’t ever supposed to do — it swings open into the space between before and after.”
  • The 200th Dog: “A milestone among headstones—at the dog shelter where I volunteer, I have now walked my 200th dog around a pet cemetery.”
  • White God and the Shelter Dogs: “The dog in the car started crying. Not a whine or a yip, but a sustained wail, a broken siren. I watched him hurl himself against the seats, paw at the dashboard, tear into the fabric. All the while, that noise was like nothing I’d ever heard.”
  • On Bioacoustics: Blue Sky Thunder: “If you can’t hear, it’s hard to know where to look.”
  • Follow Me: “I was born with the bloodlines of touch.”
  • Whisper Satyr “On the beach by the rented cottage, I recognize a red-tattered rib cage, a gift from high tides and this disjointed year.”
  • Not Less Than 1,000 Bottles for Horseradish “My great-grandfather starts the morning of December 25, 1913, with a gun to his head.
  • Lores of Last Unicorns  “Grainy footage shows a white mare held by two men, one on each side. The man on the left lifts a prosthetic horn and twists it onto what appears to be a screw-centered patch of fur glued to the mare’s forehead.”
  • Students of the Route  “It’s a Viking-vast ocean, cold as starfish shadow. My Labrador gulps saltwater and gags and recovers and takes more. Neither he nor I are from this land.”
  • Hour Thirteen  “One morning in the month of the twenty-five-year mark of the Challenger explosion, a neighbor told me she’d thought about a body in the river and then there was a body in the river and wasn’t that the damndest thing.”
  • Monster Magnificent “I found on the sidewalk one day a catastrophe of insects.”
  • Glow in the Dark  “I stood in a dark field with strangers and watched a researcher glue a tiny glow stick to the trembling shoulders of a rare bat.”
  • Certain Chimeras “In the glow of the evening news, Paul and I notice a huge fisheye of a sore on our dog’s neck. We know it wasn’t there an hour earlier.”
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