The pounding on the door startled me. We hadn’t been home very long. Returning from my father-in-law’s funeral and all that entailed had been exhausting. My husband peeked through the glass. “Do you know this guy?” The man standing on the front porch gave off the vibe of a tightly coiled rattler. I shook my head. “Never seen him.” Todd …
Poor Sugar. My little dog is getting old. She’s still spunky, still knows me and most of the members of our family, but when we were told she was nearly blind and suffered from what can best be described as doggy dementia, none of us were surprised. After all, what else can you call it when a dog stares for …
“Runt.” “He’ll never live.” “He’s so scrawny.” I don’t know what I did wrong. I was born, I guess. While all my brothers and sisters were cute, wriggly little pups, I was the outcast. Never expected to do much. To be much. At the pet store, the chubby, groping fingers of girls and boys would rove over all of our …