God's Favorite Dog

There’s a haphazard show of devotion to Slayer right next to an artsy streak of calligraphy celebrating God’s Favorite Dog. You know you’re deep in the south when ninety percent of graffiti centers around Jesus and classic rock. Sweet notion though. I’d like to be God’s favorite dog, the one he lets ride along to the grocery store when he runs out for bread and milk at ten on a Tuesday night, that pound mutt watching the doors with paws on the dash, waiting for God to come back to the car. That’d be a happy life.