January 14, 2007
A pack of dogs lives up the road from us. Their owner doesn’t fence them; none has ever known the restraint of a leash. There are 6 or 7 animals in the group; all of them large-boned mongrels and most them colored some variation of dirt brown. A couple of the wolfier looking ones are gray and black, the perfect camouflage for skulking through alder and birch thickets. They leave their tracks in the snow around my empty house while I am at work. On bright bitter-cold winter afternoons they lie about on the shoulders of the road, eying passers-by.