Dogs, dogs and more dogs. Dead dogs. Dogs walked to their death, tails wagging because it's attention and they don't know what's waiting, except they do, they can smell it, can't they? Dogs without names, only faces, eyes, open, trusting, expectant.
I'm a writer and storyteller in Berkeley, CA. If you're wondering where that is, follow the smell of patchouli and skunkweed. There you'll find me with my kickass husband, gorgeous little boy, and manic Lab-Australian Shepherd mix pups.