{This is a response to What Pegman Saw, a 150-word challenge based on a place on the globe. This time it’s Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada. Thanks for the prompt and for stopping by to read!}
Only the second pet we’d ever had, Charcoal jumped straight from the pound, into my lap.
He was a lesser rival to King Tut, our cranky, imperious, black Persian cat. Though Tut was the higher-born, Charcoal had a sleeker sheen, and mournful emerald eyes bejeweled his humbler countenance.
“Labs make good pets”, my scientist father proclaimed. Hypothetically. Without evidence. Leading in his latest experiment.
“But the hair!” wailed Mother, missing, already, the sparkle of her just-mopped floor.
Father won out, as usual.
Small consolation. It was the last battle my parents ever fought.
Within a year, Mother dusted her last shelf. Shortly thereafter, Father, too, set out to chart the Great Beyond.
Even the cat deserted me. We had barely arrived here, at my cousins’ house, when Tut abdicated.
Parents. Nuthin’ left, but this lousy dog. And the constant wisps of pitch-black hair, that blow off his back, like wishes.
Love that last line, very poetic. But what a sad period for the narrator, left only with the dog in the end. That said, if you have to deal with horrible loss in your life, having a loving puppy dog to care for is probably a blessing.
Thanks Joy. Animals can be a comfort even at the worst of times.
Yes, indeed. I know from personal experience that having a small furry thing depending on me to care for her can be the only thing getting me out of bed during the bad times.
What a sad story, Andrea. But then again… it is a story of life.
Well done.
Thanks Dale. It’s been a rough week and the sorrow came rushing through, unadulterated.
Sometimes, this forum we have chosen can be cathartic…