By Heather Holliger
You had a penchant for the questionably edible: a stiff, days-old burrito buried under leaves at the park; a half-eaten drumstick snatched from a dumpster; a dead baby bird, its pale, pinkish body limp in your jaws.
I’d raise my voice, sharply say, “Leave it.” You’d turn your head away, curl your tail under your rump, your ears folding back on themselves, your little face taut. When you wouldn’t let go, I’d pry open your mouth with one hand and extract your found object with the other. I wished I had a way to explain, hoped you’d forgive me.
One day, we were exploring a lake outside the city, lush with wildlife we didn’t usually see: kingfishers, a blue-tailed lizard, a family of turtles sunning themselves on a wet log. I was looking out across the water when I sensed you beside me and turned around. In your mouth, you held a goose egg, white and unblemished, your jaws open unfathomably, cartoonishly wide. You could easily have crushed it, even accidentally, and yet, you held it gently, almost lovingly.
Perhaps I wanted to respond in kind. I’m still not sure. But slowly, instinctively, I bent over and positioned my hands, palms facing upward, just below your jaw. You paused, as if considering, and then lowered your head, opened your mouth, and let it roll into my hands, shell intact. The life I held was growing, warm to the touch.
Heather Holliger teaches writing at Clark State College, and her creative work has been published in over a dozen literary journals, among them the Cold Mountain Review, Humana Obscura, San Pedro River Review, and Thorn & Bloom. Her poems have been featured in the Split This Rock Poem of the Week Series and in the anthology Riffing on Strings: Creative Writing Inspired by String Theory.
Image by Mau Torres courtesy of Pexels
Ah! The list of the questionably edible sets us up so well for the contrast with egg. Beautiful moment between dog and person!
What an amazing experience this must have been and so beautifully rendered here. Thank you.
I loved every thing about this: your description of your dog’s bodily gestures when you shamed her for being herself instead of understanding her dog language and then all at once understanding- accepting her gift- and then showing the greatness of the gift!
I love this piece Heather. So human, yet so creaturely too. Small glimpses of life.
Breathtaking. The close relationship between person and pet unfolds in every element of the piece.
Nicely done. Very relatable. Beautiful details. As someone who lives on a lake and does not love geese and their leavings, I was still moved by the dog’s respect for life and gift to his human.
I could so relate. My dog retrieved a baby snow shoe hare, which I then had to hand raise until I could release back to the wild.
What a beautiful, gentle-little story. Every sentence. I love the hands, at the end, cupped under the jaw.
Simply lovely. Thank you.
Lovely. Perfect for spring🌼🌸🐾🐾💕
Such gentle cadence. A beautiful, visual story. Thank you.
I loved this and so fitting with the Canada goose migration in full swing now. A pair is trying to find a place to nest near my mailbox.
Gorgeously written – what a beautiful thing! I love noting “I wished I had a way to explain, hoped you’d forgive me.” And the dog’s inexplicable tenderness to the egg, and your instinctive response to be calm. Thank you for sharing this lovely inter-species moment.
Love, love this. So quiet and simply profound.
Oh my gosh
Such tender intimacy and beauty, thank you
I held my breath, then returned to breathing with something of a smile…thank you.