The dawn light has changed
to a grey gold cousin of the blue brilliance that brightened my summer.
Max's golden lab fur blends into the tawny tall grass.
He looks at me. “What do you want? The works? Right.”
He pees again, strolls to the center of the meadow lawn, and squats to do his business.
His business is to
please. It is the thing he does best, most naturally. Despite arthritis,
his portly, chunky body seems to yield. Face aging white,
he's older than I am. Seventy-seven.
At seventy-two, cranky and arthritic, I won't age gratefully or graciously.
Monica lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and two foster dogs. She taught parents how to raise their toddlers for twenty-five years before retiring in 2015 to write. The secret to toddlers is to make sure you get enough sleep. Monica hasn't found the secret to writing, yet, but is diligently working at it. See links to her on-line stories on the publications page.
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Monica's Monday Morning Flash 