Discarded Prize

Two days ago, when I last saw Oscar, an enthusiastic black dog (my favorite of the regular Lake Cheston canines), he carried an empty fish, all husk without organs and flesh, like an Olympian champion might his country's flag: so proud, so joyous, Oscar running to catch up with his human in a victory lap.

Today, almost three-fourths of the way around the lake on the opposite side, I caught the fish out of the corner of my eye, stopped and studied its serried scales, mottled blue and cream in dull light and embedded with sand grains, and saw beauty even in defeat.