The Puppy Dog Crawl

The Puppy Dog Crawl

The wind gusts furiously
forming white horses in the clouds.
There is a strong smell of smoke in the air
as engine and tanker pull up on the scene.
Black smoke is roaring upward as flames
shoot out the windows.
A woman screams, my child, pointing upstairs.
My feet hit the ground running,
without thinking I’m inside in seconds.
The room is ablaze, filled with a gray-black haze.
I stumble and fall over the coffee table,
a swear word sneaks out.
I feel along the wall to the stairs.
I crawl upward unable to see.
The heat is intense.
I find the bathroom, pull down towels
and wet them in the bathtub.
I crawl down the hall, finding a giraffe, I feel the door.
I open it, crawl inside and place a
rug against the bottom.
There is whimpering from the closet.
Opening the door, a small child crawls out.
I whisper we are going to play a game
called the puppy dog crawl.
He smiles as I place the wet
towel in his mouth,
then the other end in mine.
Smoke billows all around us.
My partner is waiting with a ladder
at the window.
He reaches for us as the child hugs
my neck with the towel
still in his mouth, we climb out and he is in
his mother’s arms in a flash.
He is telling her that we did the puppy dog crawl.
She smiles at me and mouths, the puppy dog crawl?
Thank you.
Copyright 2005 Susan Elaine Graves