What do you do when a dirty, lean, shaggy coated white dog covered in rust red patches shambles through your life and past your hidden mountain base, blinking it’s yellow eye and then it’s blue eye and licking it’s teeth and wanders away into nothing again? And it’s not a hallucination, no matter how much it seems like it, because everyone gathered on the porch is watching it silently?
And then what happens when your spirit working partner comes back with a ripped trash bag full of dog bones, unburied from the side of the road where somebody’s pet or stray received a roadside send off, stained with red clay and with worn down teeth?
And you clean it, with soap and an old toothbrush and then hydrogen peroxide soak, and you wash out a whole ant’s nest worth of ants that were living off the marrow in one of the jawbones, and suddenly that scruffy red and white dog with the weird eyes is back and tells you to keep the jaws and the pelvis and send the rest away, and through weeks and months of sporadic communication you determine that it wants to be called Le Loupe (but it’s clear that it isn’t a wolf but kind of a dog), that it wants you to make some kind of weird headdress out of it’s remains, and that it wants to sleep at the foot of your bed?
HA! Puffy suit guy is quite an individual.
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