Bruno

 Blowing in like the Chinook he was named after; the first Samoyed found us before I’d entered kindergarten. We called him Sam. The second Samoyed, Bruno, magically appeared as a puppy when I was on the cusp of adulthood. Small, oh-so-soft rumbunctious ball of white fur. Fully grown Samoyeds are snow-white (appearing more yellow when actually in snow) sled-pulling dogs like a Husky. Atop that hard nose was soft, smooth cotton. Fur on the back white and wiry; I delighted in petting the soft fur on his head. In the dream it was that warm softness that permeated everything.

Before my first kiss Bruno and I had shared an edible dog chew. One end in my teeth Bruno would grab the other. Like Jackie Paper and his friend Puff, Bruno and I would set out for adventure in my metal Hornet. I was beginning to realize I was wired for solo explorations down beach canyons and through Hollywood hills. Not lacking for friends there remained a dire need for connection with self and fun loving companion.

If you were once a teenage boy you ought understand. Angst and emptiness warred in my not-quite grown-up soul. Grabbing my sleeping bag, I let my mom know I was sleeping on the back porch alongside Bruno. Wondering now if I needed connection with something or someone faithful. Trying to step outside of the emotions inside. Like Odysseus and Argos there is a special connection between man and dog.

In the dream Bruno was being hugged; full bear-hug. In real life I carried a tranquilized Bruenster into the vets; limp body held tightly. 

Photo by Barcs Tamás on Unsplash