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WE WERE WALKING THE DOG Demitria Sabanty the big Boerboel Mastiff with the baby eyes, his name is Sophocles, which suits him, he’s always been one for theatrics, and you and I were lathered in heat, the sidewalk was hot coal, and we were heading back, ’cause in the summer months the dog can only withstand ten minutes in the sun before his brawny bones begin to itch sweat, so we turned around, but Sophocles saw a tiny peanut of a critter, hobbling along the steaming pavement, and we were watching him, his chunky legs squatting down in anticipation, then bursting up, he thundered, barreled, right for the little, trembling creature, it was a bird, a sparrow, she was hurt and couldn’t move her soft, fragile wings, then Sophocles yelped, and
