About fifteen years ago, our oldest grandson (older son of #3 daughter) got a puppy and named him Jolteon, after a Pokemon anime character. When the puppy got too big to be a house dog, we took him to live with us in the country.
Over the years, Joe (as we called him) lived outside. When he first came, he terrorized the cats, until #1 daughter’s cat waded into him a couple of times. After that, he treated cats with respect. He even became besties with #4 daughter’s cat, Al. We would often look out and see Al and Joe curled up together on the deck.
I’ve posted quite a bit about Joe over the years. I’ve written about Joe’s love/hate relationship with the garden. I’ve written a poem about when Joe killed the neighbor’s rabbit. I wrote, when the Rapture was imminently anticipated, that I wasn’t going, if Joe couldn’t come with me.
He was my cover-boy for LONNIE, ME AND THE HOUND OF HELL, not because he was hellish, or even looked hellish. He just worked cheap.
Back in November of 2011, I posted about how Joe was getting old, and I needed to prepare for saying goodbye. And the time came, and we were relieved for him, and now we can’t look outside without thinking we see him or wondering where he is, and then remembering he’s gone. Rotten old dog. Who wanted him, anyway? ~sniffff~
A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Write about a pet.