Friday, February 20, 2009
"I'm going to white fence and back," I call as I head out the door. My old black labrador, now ten years old and knotted with tumors, was one of my first missions of acquisition after leaving the military. I had wanted a dog for years, but with all the moving in the military, I was never able to have one. I was filled with the dire kind of "puppy love" that only fictional "Billy" from Where the Fern Grows was familiar. And when I finally picked out that pup up from that Athens, Georgia, pound, I could hold him up with just one hand.
Now he spends an ample amount of time just lying around in his memory foam bed built for old-timers, stirring only when the food bowl is filled or he hears the leash coming out of the armoire. Always up for a walk, but not being able to quite make it up the steep hills of my neighborhood, he's left with only one choice...the flat road to the white fence and back.
Imparted by Southern Girl at 8:28 PM