Breeders

And Charles Darwin had saved us.  We were no longer sinners in the hands of an angry god, no longer the rebellious children of a vengeful vice lord.  We were a herd of lowly animals.  We were ravenous, dissatisfied, and dangerous in our appetites.  But we were social.  We had poured this nutritious, and perhaps scientific slop into and old blue ceramic pitcher.  In lieu of Alpo, I at one point had shaken my spiritual malaise, but it had started to creep back in various forms and complications:  in the rescued greyhound's grateful bowl, the bone and cricket with the subtle growl of the misunderstood rottweiler and the peevish pit bulls humiliation having been named after a Saturday-morning cartoon or an obscure Sanskrit god.  But what the robed ones of a younger civilization had termed sin had now begin to show through their ragged theology.  Their was instinct, and there was art.  Nothing could be more simple than the complexities confounded at the intersections of the varied infatuations, the competitive wit and repartee that now crowded the hours...Tall and hard (and drunk) my sister's brother enjoyed hanging off the new cliff of evolution, our more liberated minds began (again) to consider hope and despair as they were reflected today into the future.  There were enough of them in this circle to keep themselves half awake until three or four in the morning.