Category: Uncategorized

  • Withers

    My warm breath has melted the snow around where my nose rests. My muzzle is on the ground, my front and rear legs curled beneath me. I can feel the dusting of snow on my flanks, on my withers but I can’t see what has awoken me yet. There’s something…

  • Freelance, holidays, football, Raul and the Rocky

    DSII and Kev are sitting on the steps that I vacuumed a couple hours ago. Bored. At least they won’t be bored and covered with dog hair. They want to go over to Kev’s because they can hot tub over there, but his mom’s not home yet so they have to…

  • Process

    Whoa! The whites of my baby blues are blood red, my lids swollen and folding over and over and over. Watching myself from the outside, this whole grief thing is a curiosity. It made me furious last night, absolutely enraged, and I’m scrambling to channel that energy into something positive. I’m…

  • We lost her

    We lost her, we lost her, we lost her. She fought so hard. We fought so hard. She was dying as I was writing. Dad called minutes later and I already knew. I can’t breath. We lost her.

  • Lacking focus

    Ouch. Damn. Stretching my jaw out only makes me cough which makes that throbbing spot in my temple ache more. I’ve been clenching my teeth, I guess. I’ve recently learned that when you love someone and she’s fighting for her life, you’re fighting too no matter how far away she is. Fighting…

  • Watcher

    Silly, silly creatures. Even at this stage of life they watch. From across the room, across the bus, across the street, across the restaurant. Do they think that an extra 15, 20, 30 feet of distance renders them invisible? Most people aren’t so naive, most are cognisant of time, space and…

  • Come out and play

    Wow. I caught my silhouette in the shadows and my boobs look waaay too perky. Lily will, I’m sure, notice immediately when I see her next and again point out that I suck at buying bras. Not that my boobs aren’t perky, they just don’t point up is all. I’m…

  • Failed rite of passage

    The sun is coming up but it’s doing nothing to chase the darkness from my room. It won’t. It can’t. Not while they’re here. I’m laying in fetal position on the bed unable to move. There are two of them, one standing, hands stuffed in pockets, straggly white hair cascading down a…

  • Ashes, ashes . . .

    I pick up the spoon by its maroon and white ribbon. It is wedged in the passenger-side door pocket of our Ford Freestar amid old receipts and a clear plastic bag. The ribbon is tied neatly and somehow permanently glued to the silver handle along with three, squarish white beads with the…

  • Seventeen

    Bean bag entrails, chocolate clotted candy wrappers, moldy pennies, broken pencils, a football we’ve been missing for a year, the fleshy residue of a peel-off face mask from two nights ago . . . Demon Spawn’s former room is a character in and of itself, like the Stanley Hotel in The…