this vine contorting itself almost painfully into a recognizable ampersand reminds me that i have recently begun claiming, to a number of indifferently disbelieving friends and family members, that our puggle jack is trying to talk. he has lately made several sounds so otherworldly and strange, whether greeting me at the door, or reacting to the news of an impending walk, or drawing my attention to a forgotten morsel of chicken just out of reach on the kitchen counter, that i can only conclude he is trying to pierce the human-canine communication veil, and simply tell me, verbally, “mom, there’s chicken! no, i mean it! right there! right in front of you! no, not there! over there! yes! i can smell it!” because, of course, his increasingly frantic and intrusive behavior can’t simply be the worsening etiquette of an indulged and coddled dog. that just doesn’t stand to reason.

knotted vine

vadnais lake trail, saint paul, minnesota