The Beautiful City of Tirzah
Animals come after my father dies. Dogs. Cats. Ducks. Geese. A goat. A peacock. They wander to our North Valley home several years into his absence—appearing on our doorstep or catching our eye from feed store cages. Always, we take them in. We line our laundry room floor with old bath towels, fill cereal bowls with tap water, then flick off the ceiling light to watch them sleep.