D: It’s over?
A: Well, my part in Claude’s story is over.
D: Well, I suppose. . .
A: I am not getting you a pocket pet.
D: Can I get a baying wolfhound then?
D: A, everyone knows a boy needs a dog. If not for me, then do it for TC.
A: He’s a cat man.
D: He looks good in pictures, but that child is weird.
A: No black cats for your Druid grove?
D: That is a vicious lie – cats preferred the lochs to the grove, A.
A: And this from the man who was disturbed that it was 6/6/13 under a dark moon.
D: We all have our foibles. Now are you going to shush and let people read the conclusion to Claude?
A: Me? (Sigh) Yes, go, read! (Bloody Scot).
I like the streets. You’d think, after all I’d been through, that I would really covet a nice warm bed, cozy house, friendly kids, the works. And I do, but there was something about my life with Clarence that makes me a little wistful. It’s not enough to go back to my old ways, but the memories of that time are soft, and bring a smile to my face when I take a moment to think about it.
Some people out there are angry and some are devastatingly sad; some feel they are beyond human or animal kindness, but some are beautiful. And that is true on or off the streets. The person next to you could be a beautiful person just hurting so badly they can’t express it, and you can’t see it.
Clarence was my constant companion in the Animal Hospital. I was discharged into his care and…
View original post 847 more words