A Feather in the Sun
I no longer hear the footsteps of a stranger from up the street out for a morning weekend walk with a growing little gleeful dog; her footsteps replaced by the continuous fury of a thirsty visitor with wings announcing every…
Elegy for My Still-living Husband
We joke about who will die first but we both know it will likely be you. We hold hands while walking the dog, make her “talk” and argue about who she loves more. I adopted her years before but before…
Lest we forget Grandad’s dog, and other stories
I remember the feel of his fur, and can almost remember his smell. Standing next to him was amazing. He once stood up with me on his back. Grandma came racing over and took me off him, telling me Rex…