Patti's Memorial Fund
Yesterday I made the monthly garbage run. Since we live out in the sticks I hafta take the garbage to the county dump.
When I returned the dogs ran around the truck, waiting for Mommy to pop out. When she didn't appear they stood on their hind legs, looking on with anticipation.
My vision blurred and I felt a lump in my throat. What could I say? I felt bad for them because they don't know.
And nothing I say will help.
"She's not here puppies," I croaked, feeling the hot sting anew in my eyes.
They look at me, puzzled and circle the truck again.
"Come here doggies," I whispered, dropping to my knees.
I hugged them both and we just stayed there awhile.
The certitude of hope
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In proving that the theological virtue of hope is certain, Thomas formally
says that hope is a virtue tending to beatitude, and all virtues achieve
what th...
32 minutes ago
4 comments:
On a lighter note, the dogs are starting to play with their toys again.
Oh man! That must have really hurt. I'm the co-owner of several dogs myself. Eh, who am I kidding, they're her dogs.
Aye, that it did, John.
At the same time it is also healing. I reckon the hurt is necessary to the process in more ways than one.
Aw, sweet pups.
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