You can correct him if he's wrong but he's always right. Huxley shakes his head 'This will never do,' he doesn't need to add more, after all he is a genius. Bob, the insane master, wears his clothes inside out, counts everything three times over and never goes out after dark for fear of alien abduction. Huxley, the black dog hasn't always been black but that was how he rolled. Today, Huxley teases Bob, just like every other day. He runs away when called, drinks his own whiskey and then begs for Bob's. When Bob wants silence Huxley barks and laughs when Bob scolds him for peeing in the house. Yet Huxley isn't a naughty dog. He craves attention so he plays the clown. Bob has grown bored of his old dog. Every night Bob comes home from work feeling tired and sends Huxley out in the yard and tonight will be no different from any other night. Huxley hates the yard. Huxley is lonesome.

Huxley is no ordinary dog. He is a poet and an alcoholic. Dogs in the neighbourhood gather round each day to listen to Huxley read his poems. Sometimes silly verse. Sometimes tragic. When the crowd gather, this is when Huxley feels isolated. They admire his talents from afar. Huxley has no friends. The hours pass, Huxley weeps.

One day Huxley is flicking through one of Bob's magazine's and some picture excites him. The big city and its dazzling lights. Huxley jumps up and down and wags his tail. 'That's where I want to be' he shrills 'The big city must be full of new friends.'

Huxley pours out one more whiskey and drinks it down in one gulp. He places his notepad and pen in his suitcase and walks quietly down the stairs. Bob is still sleeping in his chair. Huxley feels it's best to sneak out the way he sneaked in. 'Will Bob care when he finds me gone?' Huxley shakes his head sadly and exits out the door.

'It's such a cold night' Huxley sobs. As memories surface, Huxley tries to block them out. His heart hurts bad as he thinks of Bob. 'Where did the love go?' Huxley reaches the end of his street and lets out a howl. With a little doubt but full of hope he tells himself there is a better world waiting around the corner.

Huxley turns on his ipod and dances towards the city lights, singing along with The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Huxley sings 'Fly away on my zephyr, we'll find a place together...'

Huxley continues 'Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah'


  1. So when do we get to read some of Huxley's poetry?

  2. Huxley is living in the Big City now but I'll give him a call and ask him to send you a poem or two. :-)