The One and Only Ivan

Reading stories would make a fine way to fill my empty hours.

LVERBACK!”

Sadly, I cannot read, although I wish I could. Reading stories would make a fine way to fill my empty hours.

Once, however, I was

The names are mine, but they’re not me. I am Ivan, just Ivan, only Ivan.

You ever hear anyone mention man being dog’s best friend?

I’m a mutt of uncertain heritage.

I walk to the glass that separates us. I put my hand where Julia’s is, palm to palm, finger to finger. My hand is bigger, but they’re not so very different.

“Humans. Rats have bigger hearts. Roaches have kinder souls. Flies have—”

Kinyani moves closer. Her shoulder brushes mine, and we let the sun soak into our fur. Together

grooming
Is there anything sweeter than the touch of another as she pulls a dead bug from your fur?

I’m not painting what I see in front of me. A banana. An apple. I’m painting what I see in my head. Things that don’t exist.

At least, not yet