Kind, disheveled Moe felt most connected to his dog Emo. While Moe enjoyed a spry 52, Emo’s dog years had mounted too fast; 16 going on death.
Christmas Eve the vet slipped Emo into that long goodbye. Moe wanted to keep something. A paw? An ear? But that seemed too barbaric. No taxidermy for him. Yet the plaster paw print just wasn’t enough.
Moe moped. Three days passed without a shower, a phone call, or a regular meal. The kibble bag stood lonely in the corner.
But life must continue. Moe stared into the rarely used mirror astonished.
Those ears! That tongue!
Down but then up. Thank you. I can relate.
Xavier Combe
I enjoyed reading this story.
Lol. I think you are getting at the way people resemble their dogs, vice versa. Wonderful.
Thanks. I always loved 101 Dalmations.
O me, oh my. Emo the mini me of Moe. Upon reflection I see what you did there.