My Week So Far

It's Thursday night, which means time to post on Catch My Words. I could post about my week. First off, in our city, a large gang of teenagers brutally attacked

Kroger employees for entertainment. These sickos laughed and smiled while kicking the foo out of defenseless strangers. Maybe my soap box about lousy parenting would be appropriate, but even good parents sometimes find problems with their kids. Such as the memorial service I attended on Tuesday for a brilliant and handsome former

student of mine––who had two excellent parents. Although he was certainly smart enough to keep up with Sheldon Cooper of Big Bang Theory fame, and would have enjoyed a molecular discussion, too, he died from a heroine overdose. No. I don't want to write anymore about these sad situations, nor the e-mail from the superintendent about 220 teachers being excessed out of jobs, four of them from our school. How many kids can we squeeze into one classroom? So basically, it was a sucky week.


Those who have followed me for some time know that I'm typically not one to write downer posts. So let's talk about small stuff that fits better with my humor blog. This morning, my sandal broke, but luckily I keep old tennis

shoes in my closet for kickboxing. I put them on and looked tasteless and tacky all day, but it's better than being barefoot. Little did I realize, these shoes are messed up, too. Now this, I can deal with.

Silly Sunday: Death

#GBE2 Growing Wild in a New Dimension

This Sunday I've been offered two bloggy opportunities. Rhonda over at Laugh Quotes is experimenting with her new Silly Sunday and my GBE 2 group has dropped the topic of "Growing Wild." As one who usually writes humor, these topics are made for me, but not today. "Growing Wild" must take on a unique interpretation that fits the definition of "without restraint" because my good friend will soon be free.

My Friend and Me

Dear Swaz,

     I'm sorry for being so selfish yesterday morning. You gave me the message, but I just didn't want to see it. I held onto the hope that things could get better. They're not. The smell of death is all around you. Honey Bear and Millie know it as they sniff and keep their distance. You won't eat, drink, and although you've tried to stand your body has given out. 
     We've been together for almost thirteen years, which is a long time for a golden retriever like you. If you were human, we'd be celebrating your Bar Mitzvah, but you got the fate of a canine and we're preparing for your death instead.
     I remember picking you up from a home in Mississippi where I met your beautiful parents--Precious and Rebel. I'm sure they are waiting for you as are many of your brothers and sisters because baby, you've lived a long life. 
      That day we got you, you were the round puppy with the pretty face. You shook in my arms the entire trip home but soon adjusted to the family where you were loved completely. 
     I will miss you greeting me at the door when I come home, your tail wag, but most of all the special way you used to sing to us when we called our lover dog.
     If you want to go now, I give you permission because I don't want you to suffer anymore. Daddy will be home around two. If you're still breathing, we'll help you to go.
      I love you, Swaz, and eventually I'll find a way to stop crying because now you will find a way to grow wild in a place where you can run free.


Mommy

    

Not great quality, but here are some pictures from his younger days.