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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “the Breaking” Down in the Dirt (v134) (the January/February 2016 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book A Stormy Beginning the Down in the Dirt Jan. - June 2016 collection book		get the 318 page Jan. - June 2016 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Happy

David Sapp

We had a dog, part
some sort of wiry-haired terrier,
part something else. As we pulled
into the driveway in the ’65 Thunderbird,
home from town, windows down,
when we were happy those summers,
before we could grasp at losing the house,

he’d flash a big, toothy grin,
a debonair, canine version of Teddy
Roosevelt on the campaign stump.
His tail-wagging, oblivious
to unpaid taxes and for sale signs said,
“Happy, happy, happy.”

Smokey, our gun-shy hound,
who chased all pooches in heat,
sired many puppy litters, spurned any leash,
and like a drunken, mongrel, sailor uncle,
rogue for days at a time, staggered home
in the night, bloodied from a fight.

He knew one trick the neighbor boys tutored;
he was happy when he’d shake
for a scrap, even with plenty of chow,
offering a paw, suddenly quite formal,
“How do you do? Fine day, fine day.”
He never considered we’d put him down
after losing the house.

Our calico cat had no tail to wag
in the dreary, pea green walled,
upstairs apartment on Gambier Street,
when there was no money that winter,
and we squinted at a tiny, snowy,
black and white TV world.

She was happy when we’d
flip and tug a string along
warped, hardwood floors, her Serengeti.
We were happy watching her
pounce upon the Smith-Corona prey,
one paw clawing letters, one batting keys,
striking a memo to imaginary gazelles.

I was happiest on the farm
(Somehow the mortgage got paid\),
when grandpa’s dog, Henry,
sneezed on cue. On Sundays
he’d rush to the window after we’d ask,
“Who’s coming for dinner?”

He was happy leaping blithely
after ratty, slobbered tennis balls,
astonishingly limber circus acrobat.
He was happy when Aunt Martha
readied berry-picking pails;
he was happy chasing rabbits
among the raspberry briar.

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