Walking in Snow with My Guide Dog

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We know not everything is equal. We suffer from this. 


Nira and walk in every kind of weather and I talk. 


She listens.


Nira, does everyone need a service dog? 


No one runs aground with a good dog. 


Not everything is equal. They think the disabled are only fit for some stony, savage country.


I tell Nira about the time I visited a sheltered workshop for the blind in New Orleans. The blind employees were kept in a dark room where they stitched decals and flags for the military.


Nira, the subtlety of normal life hides the cruelty of marginal experience. 


Could we wear a sandwich board that says something like this? 


Nira, we should take this idea under advisement. 


Nira, we are introduced to goodness every day. We ain’t frightened. 


She wags her tail. 


She sees the pastel colored world through her optic nerves. Dogs see more than black and white. A dog’s vision is something like Monet’s garden. 


Dogs live always on the verge of happenings that are made of motion, smell, color, and sound. What artists the dogs are. 


Human beings make vague inquiries; dogs plunge into the besieged world. 


Nira, how much beauty can you carry?







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