Images*

Dog.

DOG I said.

* I want the word D-O-G to make you think of a scraggly brown mutt, dirty, maybe wet, with a wagging little tail and skinny legs. I want you to think of a mutt because they are lovable. The red collar kind, with a little of that crust around the eyes. Eyes that might be different colors. That is fine. I want you to envision grass and trees and a bone to chew. Maybe a squeaky alien toy with bulging eyes. A small bear with slobber-matted fur and stuffing leaking dangerously from the rear and a missing eye – no a missing snout. I want that grass and tree to belong to you, you know, backyard style. I want you to feel good about it, like you’ve known it all your life. That’s a childhood dog. That’s a wagon chasing, feel-good mutt. Squeezable. The kind that will lick you but not in the face, never in the face, unless you like being licked in the face - and if you do then it will and you can also share ice cream cones. Long run on the beach dog. Tooth holes in the beach ball dog. Howl with the guitar kind of dog. Scared of the cat dog. I want you to think of a well-trained pup, the kinds that get to be on sitcoms and conveniently cover their eyes with their paws when situations get sticky. The kind that knows how to fetch but probably won’t. The kind that plays dead when you point the finger-gun at it and shoot. The smiling fun dog. I want the word D-O-G to be a really vivid, really powerful word for you. I want you to feel really satisfied.