Spring broke late and none too soon for Old Chuck. Winter, always hard, almost killed him. He’d lie sighing by the fire, trying to warm those old bones that had carried him over field and furrow, always by my side.

When morning slanted through the shutters he came and laid his grizzled muzzle in my lap in that familiar way.

“Sure thing, old boy.”

I got up and opened the front door. He tottered out on stiff legs, eyes milky in the sunlight as he sniffed the fresh new air. He did his business slowly, climbed onto the porch and lay still.


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  1. Jan Morrill

    Aw. You captured the joy and ultimate sorrow of loving a dog. I can feel how he will miss that old grizzled muzzle on his lap. So beautifully written.

  2. Rowena

    This is such a beautifully told story, Josh. You have taken the familiar and taken it to another plane.
    Well done.
    Best wishes,

  3. subroto

    My twelve year old has become hard of hearing and I suspect not seeing that well. Spends most of his time sleeping but boy can he still chase after birds. Lovely story.

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