My sixty-five pound
Chiseled muscles
Dashingly handsome
Pit Bull
Was getting a little soft
With treats
Nails buffed
And a lack of adventure

This morning his masculinity returned
When a young deer went bouncing across our path
Einstein’s neck hair standing
His tail pointing
The hound wanting to track
So we went hunting
After the ghost of a deer that was long gone
But “E” was quick to find the scent
Digging those manicured nails into the dirt
His nose leading along the direction
Through mud, weeds, and whatever else
Got in the way

When he tired of the chase
He stopped, looking back
With drool hanging like taffy
From his smiling dog face.

The walk home was full of his swagger
And the occasional over the shoulder
To see where that deer could be

Good times…