Six Word Friday: Rusty

I know that rusty can mean

a whole entire list of things.

But, for me, Rusty only means

the one single important special thing:

My mom’s best and favorite dog.

We had many over the years.

But mom was never very good

at the discipline of their training.

So often we had to rely

upon their good nature to achieve

Good behavior and long term harmony.

As you can imagine, that didn’t

always work out all that well.

Rusty came into Mom’s life by

random chance or by serendipitous circumstance.

She found him wandering one day.

It seems he’d been a hunter.

Extremely well trained and highly restricted

in his previous life and interactions.

Theirs was a match made in

dog-lover and human-owner heaven.

Rusty came pre-trained and well behaved.

Mom gave him the freedom to

relax and just be a dog.

She was devastated when he died.

When she died, we mixed her

and his ashes and released them

into the ocean together. Together forever.


Six Word Friday: Peace

Earlier in the week when I received the prompt for Six Word Friday, I knew exactly what I was going to write about. I was going to write about the protests. Non-violent protesters by the thousands, gathered to exercise their constitutional rights, demanding change in the status quo. This is going on. Right here. Right now. In our time. It’s much bigger and far more important than the mainstream (corporate) media would have you believe. =where it all started and to find a protest near you.

But, as often happens when you “know exactly,” the fates conspired to give me cause to write about something else under the topic of peace.

This is our dog named Sally.

This summer she suddenly couldn’t walk.

The vet ruled out almost everything.

The only thing left was cancer.

Only way to know for sure?

Very expensive exploratory surgery to see.

We gave her steroids. They helped.

They aren’t a long term solution.

We put it off. and off.

But the change in the weather

was too hard on her body.

Yesterday we put her down finally.

Sally was a good ol’ dog.

My mom will watch over her.

Now she can run like before.

We’ve had her for nine years.

Our son is not quite nine.

It is hard to make peace

with things of this sad nature.

Especially for the poor, little dude.

Love you, Sally. Rest in peace.