A good dog never dies, he always stays; he walks beside you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter’s drawing near, his head is within our hand in his old way. ~ Mary Carolyn Davies, American Poet
Last night I had the strangest dream.
I was walking down a deserted, dimly-lit street at dusk. In the fading twilight I spotted a scared, skinny little dog with a bloody gaping wound on the left side of his head.… Read more