Maya, hound-sired, will not rest, but whines to be released, and, released, races from edge to edge of further confines. The creature’s brisk pursuits, a squirrel, a cat, a stranger, a ball, a stick, a neighbor’s dog, are never in themselves an end or at an end. Maya, lean of flesh, Maya, quick of bark and sure of heart, Maya the coward, the intellect, flirts with death on a tightrope strung tight between twin possibilities— beast and pet pet and beast.

9 October 1977