Category: 1972 to 1987

(written in 1972) I can’t sleep.  I keep trying to think of answers to the questions that came today and that will come again tomorrow. The man shot their dog.  She is gone.  Nothing will bring her back.  They have accepted that fact.  But the whys will come again tomorrow as they try to reconcile…

We were late getting home. Halloween was a big event on our street.  There were already trick or treaters at the end of the block. As we pulled into the driveway, we noticed that Butch the brindle wiener dog was out and guarding the front door.  He was an escape artist and did not like…