mister slows and shows me his left foot. there's a burdock burr planted tightly between his pads. i can't loosen it. on the other side he stops and i take off my glove and try again. the burr is enmeshed in his paw hairs and wedged deep but i pry it out. he still walks slowly. there's a cop parked on the path. you never know about cops. anyways to get him moving i put his rope on and tug lightly then take it off and lure him with green apple pieces. that works better than rope. at home i ask if he's ready for a bath and he drops to the floor resisting so i carry him to the tub and he sighs and submits to the soaping. i feel the scar ridge on his belly, and some flecks of dried blood float to the drain. it takes a long time to dry him now even though his belly is shaved, his undercoat is fine wool and dreadlocked and i rake it as i blow hot air and fluffs of his wool roll around the kitchen. in the end he looks placid and beautiful and sort of sheepish and grateful mostly as it's done.