Did I Kill Your Puppy? I didn’t know how to do CPR on a puppy, but I tried. After I pulled Smokey out of the swimming pool, I held him upside down and smacked his back to force water from his lungs. Only foam came out. I tried chest compressions – thirty, like I would for a baby – but his ribcage wasn’t shaped like a baby’s, and I wasn’t sure I was pushing in the right place. He didn’t respond. I covered his foamy muzzle with my mouth and puffed one-two-three. No change. I repeated this until I realized I was wasting my time. I gave up, hugged his wet body and cried. Did I kill your puppy? I guess so. But I don’t feel like a killer. “Kill” infers intent, and Smokey is not dead on purpose. No, I feel like an idiot – a stupid, severely negligent idiot. I let him out back to play with the big dog but returned to my hack-and-slash game instead of supervising him. I heard the big dog barking fervently but continued fightin
Seasons PreservedLast winter I lay down under an apricot tree, the frosted earth wrapping me in a blanket of dead leaves and neglected fruit.In spring, before beetles and worms consumed me, roots encircled my remains and drew me up through trunk, branch, twig and blossom.By late summer I had become flesh, juice and stone. A frail hand picked me and carried me in a basket to a small kitchen in a small house. I was boiled with sugar and lemon, sealed in a glass jar and hidden in a dark, cool corner to sleep. At autumn's end, I awoke as a hand placed my jar in a warm square of sun on a worn oak table. Through the glass I watched an old woman spoon me onto whole wheat toast and eat me between sips of warm chamomile tea.
DNA AppliedUntwist your Fateand with minecombineto createour own small god