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How Jack Got His Name

I don’ t know why I named him Jack.


Soon we became a pack; two cats, another small dog,

and three people; me, my daughter and grand daughter.

Jack sleeps on my bed.

He has his own pillow next to my head,

where he migrates every night

beginning at the foot of the bed

to his pillow next to my head

as if he were an Arctic Tern migrating

20,000 miles each year.


Throughout the night

he snores, snuffles ,farts, kicks, gurgles and burbles

And he dreams.

All night long he dreams.

While I sleep through most of his movements and snores

I am privy, oddly so,

to his dreaming night life as the Little White Dog.

When we both wake up at dawn

I have remember Jack’s dreams

When he becomes The Little White Dog


As The Little White Dog Jack flis everywhere;

over abandoned fishing boats,

through Trees Of Life,

over the Isle of Skye,

through a red rock arch In Canyon Lands Utah

One foggy morning there he was

treading fog above the Golden Gate Bridge.


New places every night.


This story, in pictures ,

is Jack, as he is also

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