Parable of the Pit Bull

    Walking up McGuire Ridge near Murray Mound a young pit bull spies me. It’s loose. In a high pitched voice I call it over, “Puppy! Puppy!” We fall in love. We play awhile, joyous, smiling. When I have to go, it follows me, natural as can be. We’re friends. I stop, get stern and send it back. Eventually, it gets the message, leaves reluctantly. It’s o…