Reflecting

By Eva Hitchcock

He leaps from the brown car,
his thick black fur
shining in
the summer sun.
A blur rushes by
as his eyes meet the
indigo river rushing by.
As his first paw meets
the icy water,
a burst of happiness
meets his face.
He runs through the clear
river splashing water
on me until
he is too tired to move.
He lays down
in the water to rest
sending a small wave
across the sand.
I look at his reflection
in the river.
I see the first day my
parents brought him home
in a little cardboard box,
a red ribbon tied
around his neck.
I remember a bundle
of destruction rushing to and fro,
leaving disorder
in a trail behind him.
I think of the day
when he disided that to be
a good dog, he didn't
have to go to training school.
He gets up slowly
and comes torward me
and as if to reasure me, he gives
me a gentle lick on the
palm of my hand.
I smile and hug his neck.