Run Like a Dog

What I wish is to run like this, like him, full-bore, with abandon, run and run and run, race about, dart, leap, jump, on a tear, on a spree, romp, madcap, tumble, and bounce, ears flapping, if I had dangling ears, tail swooshing, if I had a swooshy tail, and bound over tall grass, if I could run on all-fours, bound through snowy fields, if I could find deep, soft snow, even crash through crashing salty waves– and also, stop, full: devote fully –to scent, if had a brilliant nose, or to stalking a mole, if I found moles delicious.

Unlike our sedate human linear increments, his follow his nose, take a dog leg, loop–intention and abandon taking turns–track vermin, snuffle for drops of sweat, of saliva, of molecules of other animals that ran and stopped and shed and smelled and hunted.

I long for his freedom of frolic, and his attentiveness, long to be let off a leash, or at least, to release the dog and see him run because dogs run in jazz.