he's lookin for that home, and i hope he finds it.
It began with a limp. He would attempt to climb the stairs and I could walk faster than he could jump. Seeing him in such a weakened state was taking its toll on not just me, but the whole family. He had been my best friend since I was 6, and over a thirteen-year period, had faithfully greeted me after school, woke me up when it was time to take care of business, and guarded his domain with an ear that was constantly open.
The change was immediate. We were all the more short-tempered. coming home on weekends to an empty back porch brought on a feeling of emptiness and loss unlike anything else I had ever experienced.
Sometimes I can still see him laying in the shade under my window. I used to leave dropped food on the kitchen floor knowing it would be taken care of. Now there is no fur stuck on the bushes in the backyard. No noises in the middle of the night as he would find a new resting position. Most importantly, no sign of him coming back and rescuing me from a newfound crevasse in my emotional being.
It would be favorable to report a new beginning. However sad it may be, this is not the case. Fresh starts are happening all around me, and the best I can drum up is a bout of fresh tears, a gut full of loneliness, and eyes tinged green with envy. My only solace to be mustered is that George, my best friend and most lovable pet, no longer suffers through long, hot summers, arthritic hind legs, and taunts of neighborhood cats.
tell me what you think.
posted by ::puppyface::. at
3:34 PM
2 Comments:
Poor Georgie. What a good dog. Never had a dog that you could tell to drink water and he would, at least a little to satisfy the commander.
I feel your loneliness. When Oreo's life was ended abrupt by a motorist all of us were in tears. My brother's cat but was like a person to all of us. I still have random dreams of him coming out of nowhere and being confused and then happy but those times are behind me as much as I miss him coming down to the bus stop everyday to rub on my cousin's and my legs untill we got on the bus. As the bus would drive away he would just sit there and stare at the bus like a mother waving her first born off on his first day of school.
Or coming home from wherever and seeing him perched in the window waiting for us and watching over the yard.
Those cold nights where he would cuddle up by your neck on the top of the couch or in your lap while watching random television shows.
I think that this is a worthy dedication to the best domestic animals to roam the suburban jungles, more specifically and the reason for the post, George.
Scott
9:55 PM
Nicely stated, Scott. I think I'm entering it into a short story contest.
2:32 PM
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home