I ask that you read this with an open mind, for the descriptions are abstract senses. It's not supposed to make sense, nor be elegant, for it is a permanent rough draft. I obeyed the urge to post it for all to see, and so here it is.

An Ode:

His fur is thistle-down milkweed, colored with salt and pepper wood spice.

Eyes of almond-wedge, with the depth of steeped tea too long in the sun.

His paws are rough elm bark, seltzer down a sore throat.

His nose is black, melting, ice, probing the palm of my hand.

His teeth—gentle ivory tusks teasing apart white toy fuzz.

His bark is always to please, slow to leave his muzzle but quick to echo.

He is a companion breeze of wagging, arced tail, always glue-stuck to my side.

He is adventurous—following the trail.

He is loving—too big for my lap; perfect for a hug.

He is Indy, my dog.