Cutter and I caught mid-conversation.
I can communicate with animals.
Last night I spoke with Violet, one of my grand-dogs, and asked silently, “Do you really like that canned pumpkin I gave you last night with your dinner?”
She stared back with liquid pools of brown love: “Anything you give me is full of love, and how can love not taste divine?” Continue reading
I peer down at Hank as I pet the top of his soft brown head while wondering, why had I never noticed this anomaly before? Continue reading
The Friday it happened, I went about my business as usual, helping nature beautify the world. I’d seen a lot of strange objects in my line of work: deflated balls; rusted costume jewelry; musty leather wallets with soggy dollar bills; even a diamond ring, which I had to return to its divorced owner.
But I’d never seen what I came across on that afternoon, between the hydrangea bushes and the to-be-planted dogwood trees. Continue reading
I see the older woman walk slowly up our driveway, step by leaden step, watching out for icy patches. Her head is down, so I can only see the top of her forest-green hood, attached to the overcoat she wears. It’s big on her, and I wonder if it belonged to a son now living in another town, probably another state. Continue reading
I woke up in the middle of the night as sick as a dog. Wait. My dog never got this sick. Henry, my Golden, had the constitution of an ox and the compassion of a Mystic, so he followed me from the bedroom as I raced to the bathroom.
I don’t remember what happened next, except when I awakened I had a huge headache, an even bigger lump on my head, and someone breathing into my nose. Continue reading
roughwighting 