The Second Time They Let the Dog Out in the Ministry
by Matthew ( Mathias) Pitts
Rottweiler on premises is a sign that would read like keep out or no
solicitation to some, but my brother and I are lovers of dogs.
The homeowner is telling us a fun and welcoming fact:
when pushing the gate open it’s best to make a display of it — coax
the canine from their hiding place, and when nothing emerges
from beyond the gate we encroach on the offense,
traverse the pathway of a home that would swallow ours whole
in Westerville, Ohio. There was a home attached to that one
like a remora and the walk to the home was near 40 days.
We count 12 windows. There was a pool that looked the size
of our backyard— built into the ground— and there wasn’t
a police siren or cause for one for miles.
Any Rottweiler that called this home couldn’t have the same bark or bite
as the ones we knew and we often joked to ourselves that we could take
10 suburban dogs back-to-back.
Had they known our dog could smell them they wouldn’t come close
at all — the dogs in the suburbs have no idea what kind
of encounter we could make this visit:
The fence that confines them to this extraordinary quiet
we would make a game of scaling in a single leap and whatever
Rottweiler that would not make itself known by now, when we’ve
knocked its door could do little in the way of fear - the dog - I could see it- the
dog had its own home which for this property made three and not even a single
bark
so far and the lawn so clean the only evidence that it existed was the sign.
Jehovah’s Witnesses like us kept notes of this territory
and even mentioned to beware of the dog and looking
at its place on the map so far away from even a liquor store
unsolved murder unpaid utility missing child absent father abandoned
church abandoned home so on and so on.
It made my brother laugh at the thought of being afraid now
of an animal with a taste for some Bible literature. The second time they let
the dog out in the ministry, it was a salt and pepper
Yorkshire terrier that froze in the threshold whose voice cracked
across the summer heat, un - bloodlusted and full faith,
who just never seen anything like us before.
solicitation to some, but my brother and I are lovers of dogs.
The homeowner is telling us a fun and welcoming fact:
when pushing the gate open it’s best to make a display of it — coax
the canine from their hiding place, and when nothing emerges
from beyond the gate we encroach on the offense,
traverse the pathway of a home that would swallow ours whole
in Westerville, Ohio. There was a home attached to that one
like a remora and the walk to the home was near 40 days.
We count 12 windows. There was a pool that looked the size
of our backyard— built into the ground— and there wasn’t
a police siren or cause for one for miles.
Any Rottweiler that called this home couldn’t have the same bark or bite
as the ones we knew and we often joked to ourselves that we could take
10 suburban dogs back-to-back.
Had they known our dog could smell them they wouldn’t come close
at all — the dogs in the suburbs have no idea what kind
of encounter we could make this visit:
The fence that confines them to this extraordinary quiet
we would make a game of scaling in a single leap and whatever
Rottweiler that would not make itself known by now, when we’ve
knocked its door could do little in the way of fear - the dog - I could see it- the
dog had its own home which for this property made three and not even a single
bark
so far and the lawn so clean the only evidence that it existed was the sign.
Jehovah’s Witnesses like us kept notes of this territory
and even mentioned to beware of the dog and looking
at its place on the map so far away from even a liquor store
unsolved murder unpaid utility missing child absent father abandoned
church abandoned home so on and so on.
It made my brother laugh at the thought of being afraid now
of an animal with a taste for some Bible literature. The second time they let
the dog out in the ministry, it was a salt and pepper
Yorkshire terrier that froze in the threshold whose voice cracked
across the summer heat, un - bloodlusted and full faith,
who just never seen anything like us before.
Matthew (Mathias) Pitts Is a Poet, Performer, Filmmaker and Photographer from Columbus who uses humor and myth to fantasize the mundane especially in a black lens. Mathias' work focus' on his unique religious upbringing, love of anime and completely reasonable and non obsessive middle child syndrome. Mathias is diligently working at releasing his first official collection of poems as well as creating visuals through short film and he hopes you know that just because Mufasa was a lick, doesn't mean he wasn't guilty of the game.