The pain of losing a companion animal- we do share a special bond with those who share our homes, I had tears in my eyes reading this.
He is ever alert to the sounds of her. Footsteps upstairs might mean she is coming. She may yet share the couch with him. He may lay his nose on her leg and sigh, tail thumping the upholstery in a contented rhythm. On frost-laden mornings she greets him and lets him out. He hears the honey in her voice and knows he is loved. He lies at her feet as she stares at the metal thing, always absorbed. If he is very still and quiet she might just stroke his head. It is enough to be close, shoehorned between the chair and the ottoman, her legs a ceiling above.
He runs with her even though he is small and far from athletic. He keeps pace and smiles up at her, tries to avoid the call of the tree trunks and dash onwards.
One day he feels an unease. Something slow…
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2 thoughts on “The Writing Dog”
well written, a wonderful story to remember a loved one.
Yes, the story moved me when I read it- which is why I chose to share it
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