Exiled to the backyard, While inside the termite inspector inspects, Kohnan limps to the door, Pleads with liquid brown eyes. He doesn’t bark; has no energy for that these days.
“He’s friendly.” The inspector nods. Kohnan sidles in quietly. He’s drawn blood. He can be protective, even with friends. Not now. Mornings he wakes up slowly in a fog of old age.
He’s at my feet, Moving his head to the sound of steps in the attic. The sun falls in patterns, Warms my legs, his arthritic hips. Warmth is welcome to us both, we’re grateful spring is coming fast.
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 