Our new life has seen a hard start. Though the loving family sends what they can, and though they most certainly saved us from ruin, we still sleep far from the love we once knew.  We found a land where we weren't wanted. Our minds had nothing to do, our bodies nowhere to go. We grew frustrated. We ground our teeth.  Our guts clenched and flipped over themselves. But we kept trying. We saved every penny and still we did not make it. I cursed at the wind. I served idiotic men, and I hacked at the ground while you stood all day until your feet bled. But I rubbed your feet every night and you rubbed my temples and we found fortitude in each other.

They brought him inside a small pen to meet me.  He was called Raider then, and he looked everywhere but in my direction. He wanted to run off with the other dogs, wrestle with new friends—just get out of the pen.  I sat there invisibly when a child outside the pen looked past another dog begging for her attention and asked me, “Are you taking him because we want to see him next.” I looked back down to the pup and saw a fire I vaguely recognized.  It took me four days to name him.  On every one of those days we would walk down the hill to the park and slide down the slide together as I pondered on it. The first days were rocky.  He was almost stolen by two young women who admired his looks. He ran off with a friend after a pack of coyotes.  I thought he was dead, drawn out and ripped apart. I came home to find him at the door, those little eyes happy to be home, and I named him Peekay.

Oh, I remember. Hot dog trucks to biscuits and jam to the great Mexican breakfasts we found at the markets where we would be found every week if we could.  I remember the ice cream and the beer on Main Street in Pleasanton. I remember the shrimp tacos, and the tamales in your room late at night. I remember the late-night runs for burgers or burritos and I remember picking up the Chinese food on the night you said, “Yes.”  It is no wonder to me that you are my soul mate. I love these memories as I love you. I should be lucky enough to share every morning with you for the next hundred years, drinking coffee at our little black table, my heart at peace with itself.

His feet patter on the trail amongst the trees. We both breathe heavily; his tongue lolls out of the right side of his mouth and I damn near follow suit. Chipmunks and squirrels scurry through the underbrush on either side of the trail.  His eyes try to anticipate their every move so he can follow them. I yell at him to keep on the path but then my eyes move of their own accord, to the trees and their branches, and the shining leaves above. The wind dances through us all, stopping him, the rodents, the birds, myself.  The air is brisk and puts us under a spell. His nose flares, his eyes wide.  To whatever gods there be, I feel thankful. To the sun and the stars and the moon and the mists, I feel thankful.  We stand there, locked by forces we don’t understand.  I wonder at nirvana and inner peace and the men who I have met and read about that might have found it. But I do not pretend that I am capable of it yet. I am satisfied to be here, to open up mine eyes, and breathe.