For Arc...

For Arc my pet mouse who died...

The mouse stood among six huge dogs. His livery spotlessly clean, the deepest blue, and over his heart the eight pointed golden star that was the sign of our new nation. They trod past the wagons, swords and  pistols at hip. The dust of the road seemingly giving way to them as they passed by this way on the way west across the great river.

The mouse was laughing, eyes bright under the desert sun joking with his larger friends and sometimes nearly running to keep up with them but taking in the sun, the dust, the heat of the day, and the rushing wagons that headed both ways down the deeply rutted road with almost untouchable joy.

One of the dogs stopped and bent down allowing him to rush up her arm to her shoulder where he stood among her golden curls. His whiskers twitched before he sneezed, and fished about in his long coat for a bit of silk and lace with which to wipe his nose. A passing wolf cub blessed him her sharp little teeth showing white against the black of her muzzle, and the pink of her lolling tongue. He doffed his tiny hat scarlet hat with it's crimson plume to her and her passing pack.

I fell in love with life that day, even though the years have passed by the grip since then. I still remember the dust, the heat, the creaking of the wooden wagon wheels, the dogs in their worn leathers, the brilliant livery of the young learned mouse, and the huge pack of wolves all on their way to find their across the great river.