Here

“Hector…baby…no…come here…back to daddy…come on good boy, come on...here…here!”

His eyes were open, unblinking.  They stared at me, sad and pitiful, asking me to pick him up, to hold him.

I touched his muzzle.  A trickle of blood came from his nose, oozed from the ear nearest the ground.

A car, I guessed…

Not knowing what else to do, I gathered him in my arms, lifted him from the road, as his eyes had asked.  I had lifted him in my arms dozens, hundreds of times, and he’d been all flailing paws, squirming muscle.  Now, though, he was a rag doll, limp and heavy, and it was then I knew, knew it in my practical brain if not my protesting heart.

He was gone…dead.





About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)