I have never told my dog a secret, but my daughter has.

Our dogs run free. We live in the arroyos and mesas of Northern New Mexico and our neighbors are so far that I don’t even know if they are home. Our dogs come home smelling of sage and brushed with dust.

My daughter whispered in the ear of the oldest dog the evening of her departure.

“Oskar, I’m leaving tomorrow. I am going away. I’m traveling across the country, to a place where it’s green. I’d like you to bring me a present…”

I imagine him asking her, “What would you like?”

She says, “I’d like an antler or a cow skull, maybe a deer skull? Something from home. Something mine.”

Our dogs bring us unpleasant surprises often. Something dead, something stolen. This next morning, however, antlers appeared on our Saltillo tiles… largish ones.  The first ones they have ever brought back. They were packed and brought with my daughter to college.

Since then we have only received muddy tracks and chewed sticks.

This is a true story.

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Assistant Ed: Jamie Khoo/Ed: Sara Crolick

{Photo: author’s own}