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His collection of frayed, stained, flannel shirts is a library of memories.  His granddaughter once asked him: “Papa, why’d you wear that shirt?”.  He told her: “Because it was on top.”  He blindly selected one cursing as he struggled to find the sleeve.  Shoulder surgery complicates getting oneself dressed.  The dog waited at the door, the cat threatened to use the flower box.
He talks to the dog knowing his secrets will be forever safe with him.  Occasionally the dog will give him “that” look, y’know, like, not again, I’m just gonna run over there and pee.  He watches the other dog walkers.  Wonders how they got the dog.  Throws the wet, slimy, tennis ball again and again.  The dog doesn’t care about the shoulder surgery, just the freakin’ tennis ball.  Other dogs come to see him, knowing he will pet them and tell them how good they are.  They will shake their rain-soaked coats as he laughs with them.  He heads home knowing that the house will smell like wet dog all day.  He thinks he hears “his” dog chuckle.

John G. Lawless
©4/27/2023

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