My dog, Minnie, celebrated her birthday this Sunday. She turned 3 and has been a source of joy and laughter every day she’s been in our lives. So, I sat at my table and decided to write her a poem.
Now, at first, I felt a little silly about the whole thing. She’s a dog (duh), can’t read (double duh!), and frankly, didn’t I have better things to do?Continue reading“Just a dog.”
He was an autistic 8-year-old; not fond of animals. She was a feisty corgi puppy, determined to bite everyone in her path.
He screamed. She herded. He cried. She cocked her head and squeaked. But nevertheless she persisted.Continue reading“Nevertheless she persisted – a true story.”
Let me tell you a story. A story of two men and a little dog.
The front yard fence had been replaced by a newer, sturdier design. Long, horizontal slats of wood had been nailed to posts after careful measurements. But Minnie’s dad was still worried. From her past misadventures, he was sure she’d squeeze between the fence’s pickets and hightail it to the McDonald’s nearby. He wanted to be certain it was corgi-proof. The Handyman — who’d been extra thorough in his estimations — assured him it was. But Dad wasn’t convinced. So he set up a test.Continue reading“Two men and a dog.”
(Photo by zhenhao Liu on Unsplash)
Dogs have their priorities right. They eat plenty, nap when they feel like it, and bark if anyone acts fresh with them. Rain or shine, they’re always happy to go for a walk or dig in the mud, with no worries about the next paycheck or loan interest rates. Adorable, fluffy freeloaders in short, and you can’t help but go “aww” when they trot up to you, tails a waggin’.
There are stars of varying sizes all over the sky. Nestled between are crescent moons, silver, and rose. The stars move, and she follows them with her eyes, waiting to see if they come back.
She’s on vacation and he misses her terribly. I know even if he can’t always tell me.
When school lets out, he looks for her around the house. “MinnieMinnieMinnie” he chants in his singsong voice, zooming from room to room on his little scooter.
Corgis are magic. You couldn’t convince me otherwise.
They are tiny, ridiculous puffs of energy – all heart and floof. And they are bright. Incredibly so. Minnie gently waited, nosed, and hung around our autistic son for a WHOLE YEAR, before he reciprocated. She didn’t give up; she won him over and now they’re thick as thieves.
Dr. Minerva Floofybutte is a joke.
Made an appointment with her office and her examination room is a mess.
Squeaky toys, tennis balls, mismatched chews and shredded cardboard boxes everywhere. I even stepped on what I hope is peanut butter!
He was an autistic 8-year-old; not fond of animals. She was a feisty corgi puppy, determined to bite everyone in her path.
He screamed. She herded. He cried. She cocked her head and squeaked. But nevertheless she persisted.
Continue reading“Nevertheless, she persisted -a true story.”
With his matted hair and snarling mouth, he crouched low and waited for me to run. Almost like he was egging me on to make a move.
“Give me a reason, little girl. Just give me one good reason and I’ll rip you to shreds.”Continue reading“Just you wait…”
