By Leatha McClure 10-12- 2020
His coat glowed with the light of a million full moons yet black as the darkest night. The white on his chest was as blinding as the new sun after a solar eclipse. Perched in the middle of his forehead was a silver horn. He didn't remember it being there before or being in this place. The last thing he remembered was her tears splashing his face as his head lay in her lap—a man with a white coat pricking his leg and then a flash of light. Beside him was the little poodle that had taught his so many things when he had arrived on the farm. How the littlest one was the boss and ate first, and he wasn't to put his big white paw on the boss's head and hold him down. She had made him special with his coat. He could make her feel safe and brave. He could go everywhere with her to do his duty. They say it's a service, but it wasn't; it was just love. Look, here comes two more shining black with silver horns. The smaller has white tiptoes.