Caramel Snow

On my way home there is this dog Rick. This poor fella' sits outside day and night, day after day, year after year. But even after all of these grimy years of being outside I still hold him as the most beautiful dog I've seen. He has eyes like melted caramel, melted.. hardened, it's dark caramel. Burnt from the inside and it grows out and explodes over the glossy white surface of his sclera. It's like the caramel star gone Nova. His fur is whiter than cotton. Its purity penetrates you when revealed. It's almost as if the bible in the Devil's hands. His fur makes the paper you work on off white, it makes the clouds of a fairytale day seem gray. I sometimes am afraid to pet him because I might be sucked in by what I'll refer to as his "white hole." I'm not sure what to name this trait except a dog's anticipation, but on those rare occasions that I do walk home he seems to sense my feet padding against the sidewalk. I see his shining white head pop up from the fence as if a child with a head like the sun. I'll stand a few minutes with him, scratch his ear, pity him, pity his backyard set home and wish deeply that I could take him with me someday. That maybe he'll get the strength and courage to lunge over that fence and find his way to my house.
If I did believe in God, I've believe it was him, Rick. God can take the form of whatever he likes, hes everywhere if even a little, so says those bible thumpers. But if I really could believe I'd believe most of Him was there in Rick.