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The Barking Dogs of Taos
     by Richard Peabody

 

1.      Ranger, Doyle, Zander, and Mesa

are living the feral life

in the no man’s land

between Taos airport and Route 64

near Bad Dog Road.

 

Doyle is a Belgian Malinois  

escape artist

too slick for animal rescue

or dog whisperer.

 

Too cool to be caged.

Starving, maybe,  

but as long as there

are dumpsters.

 

A real loner.

 

Mesa and Zander

are close knit

Shepherd mixes.

You catch one,  

you’ll catch the other. 

Don’t even look  

like they’re from

the same litter.

 

But still

compadres,

who have  

each other’s backs.

 

Ranger is complicated.

A shape shifting

Australian Cattle Dog.

 

He clings to the shadows, and

blurs into the landscape

like a coyote.

 

Blink and he’s gone.

 

Like a floater

in your eyeball.

 

A wizard

of sand

 

and scrub. 

Strays make  

rounds at dusk  

and dawn.

 

Camping out

near the John Dunn Bridge

at the confluence

of the Rio Grande and Rio Hondo.

 

They can reach the  

river water

 

hide out

in the Beargrass  

and woody shrubs

that hug the banks.

 

If they can’t find food

at the RV Park  

or the landfill

 

they roam

closer to town

 

try Aly’s Eats

or Medley. 

Doyle was caught

one time at  

the Country Club

by the Stray Hearts

folks.

 

He escaped the first night

by climbing right up  

and over the rescue

center’s wire fence.

 

2.      The crew is back together  

now, covering a 12-mile radius

from Arroyo Hondo to Taos,

and back again.

 

Chilly nights bring  

a wildlife control expert,  

in a bright red Jeep Cherokee.  

 

She’s a young empath  

and wants to rescue

every lost pet.

 

She also brought snacks.  

Doyle is growling at the dusk.

 

Wary, Ranger circles the Jeep.

 

Mesa and Zander are screw it

we’re so hungry.

 

The expert has pre-cut pepperoni.

 

She softly sweet talks

Mesa and Zander closer.

 

C’mon guys, get a treat.

 

They follow a pepperoni trail

into the back seat.

 

Ranger edges into the shadows

barking like a motherfucker.

Doyle snarls before

he turns tail and runs

toward the gravel pit.

 

Fine.  

The wildlife expert drives  

to Taos animal rescue.  

 

She worries about Ranger

and Doyle.

 

The nights are getting colder.

How will they survive?

 

Yet now, her hands

and heart are full

 

and she  

wisely  

keeps  

 

the pepperoni  

coming.

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There’s no secret about my love for the red rock country of the southwestern U.S.  I’ve talked about it so much for so long that a lot of people assume I used to live there.  I’ve visited maybe six or seven times.  I almost bought houses in Taos and Taos Canyon on two separate occasions.  And I have friends who have permanently moved there.  One of my daughters babysits and walks dogs.  A report of some missing dogs in the Taos News mentioned a pack of scallywag dogs and I was smitten.  This will be the title poem of my next collection. 

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Richard Peabody photo.jpg

RICHARD PEABODY lives in Arlington, Virginia. His most recent volume of poetry is Guinness on the Quay (Salmon Poetry, 2019).   gargoylepaycock.wordpress.com  

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