“Paws For Life 2.”
The new group of dogs have come and gone. There were 10 dogs this time. All 10 with their own way of doing things. All 10 just wanting to be loved.
Randall came back because he could not stand to be alone in a room where all life moved around him. This time he has been adopted out to a better place—a bonanza.
Then there’s Sunshine. Whatever happened to her before she came to prison pinned her soul. She could only dream of relaxing.
There was Atticus, the mango, dark stripe, hyena looking hound, that walked on his paws, like a dancer, head held high. From afar, Atticus may appear mean. Up close, he is all love, and rolls on his back and closes his eyes for as long as you choose to rub his belly and neck.
There was Bores, the little general who walked like a tank, unafraid of anything. And looks like the dog Little Rascals.
There was Barrister, the part golden retriever. When he left today, and everyone patted him and said goodbye, he knew he wasn’t coming back. So, before he left the main gate of the prison, he broke away and ran back down to building five. But he had to go to a better place, he didn’t know.
There was Marmaduke, the biggest dog, big and silent, and a gentle giant. He would sit for hours like a lion, just relaxing. I heard him bark once or twice. And when he did not want to move, he didn’t. He dropped like a sack of potatoes to the ground and lied there.
There was Paws, the part great Dane and [inaudible] named after the far shape on his neck. He had the colors of Saturn and was almost as big as Marmaduke. He loved balls and played with them endlessly. If a ball was near, he could not focus on anything else for hours. He would focus on a handball, softball, soccer balls, footballs, basketball. If he could reach a full moon in the sky, Paws would’ve have played with it too.
They all left but Charlie, the lovely tannish akita shepherd dog. Like a sled dog with two different colored eyes. I’m sure he’ll be adopted one day. For a few days, he’ll get all the love.
This is Spoon Jackson, a lonely poet in prison in need of some feedback from his work and in need of letters, visits, and different exchanges with different people who want to do projects. So, if you have the time, please drop me a line. I get my inspiration from letters from the outside.
(Sound of a cell door closing.) These commentaries are recorded by Noelle Hanrahan of Prison Radio.