Yes, I’m sorry to hear it; he was a good man,
your husband. Reminds me of when my dog died:
he died of a heart attack, too. At least that’s
what the vet said: his old ticker just gave out.
I was so sad for so long; the grief is just
overwhelming—you kind of get used to
having them around. I cried all the way back
from the vet’s. Carried him home in a cardboard
box. Dug a grave for him out in the flower garden.
Next to you, he was about the best friend I ever
had: always ready to go for a walk, sit at my
feet,warn me if somebody was at the door.
Man, even fetch my slippers when I sat down.
Sorry, must be something got in my eye.
It’s a terrible thing when a pet dies, I don’t
know if I’ll ever get over it. It just leaves a gap
that nothing can fill. So, I’ll see you at the funeral?

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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