A Boy and His Dog

They say there's nothing more natural than a boy and his pup. Watching the two grow and play in the yard, in the house, at the park. No cares, no worries, no thoughts. Existing not as two independent creatures but rather a flurry of actions and events resulting in the simple joy of just "being". A personification of happiness we only find in the deepest parts of our memories - memories not buried but rather forgotten through the daily stress of living - resurfacing only through nostalgia and dismissed just as quickly.

And as natural as it is to feel this resurgence of childhood happiness, it is equally tragic to see a boy and his dog. One still growing into his prime while the other's passed. To tell him he can't play as rough as he once could, but not find the words to say why. To know the boy is too old to believe in "The Farm" and yet too young to understand why his best friend no longer moves; why Dad is in the backyard with a shovel; why he isn't allowed out of the house until we finish filling the hole.


For Sammy and Rascal...
gone, but never replaced

Sadly I couldn't find a picture of Sammy and this was the only picture of Rascal I could find. I think all of our old pictures were on the old computer before it crashed. or else still in the pile of photos that still need to be put into an album.

And this is my sister's dog, Candy. Though she's been outside for about three years now, she still gets tangled around that stump in the picture of Rascal. She also refuses to sleep in that igloo house.