Sample Reading From:



Down East Books
$18.98

From the Chapter by David Webb
The Eyes Have It

As I silently move the ball of my thumbs over his cheeks, the dog's eyes close. A moment later they open. So much trust. I cradle his head in the palm of my hands, rubbing behind his ears with my forefingers as I continue to speak in a quiet voice.

His sparkling eyes are so open, a portal into the very depth of his essence. Their centers, the irises, are almost pitch black, surrounded by a rim of golden brown. I ponder what this Brittany pup is thinking and wonder whether he thinks at all. Does he have a soul? Maybe someday I will find the answer.

What I do know is that he can't seem to get close enough to me. He wraps one leg around my forearm and rolls his head to one side and looks into my face. He stares with fixed, wide-open eyes, then turns away quickly. In just a moment he looks back again with that calm, trusting, intent expression.

In a way I am transfixed, held motionless by the pup's gaze. I dream, forming a mental image of this pup casting along a fencerow, whirling ninety degrees, freezing on his first quail point, holding for a moment, then pouncing to flush the bird. He chases, trying to catch the quail, but to no avail. Twenty or thirty yards into the pursuit, the Brit turns and comes back to me. He eyes ask: Did I do good, boss? He sure did.

A moist tongue licks my chin and brings me out of my trance. The dog's gaze is again fixed on mine. The eyes have it.

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Updated 01/22/2004

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