Sarge ran away last night. I know, nothing surprising. Nothing unusual, and he even had good excuses to be frustrated with me. It was late-- I haven't been spending as long a time with him as I usually do on our runs because I've been writing so much in preparation for a story contest.
He burst out of his cabin and just...ran. Gone to the neighbors' or the woods or wherever.
At eleven, I went out again and found him snuffling in the yard near the chickens' scraps and I gave him his dinner and took him to his dog-cabin-thing.
Tonight, during our run, we looked at the stars, me resting my hand on his head.
Sarge, don't ever stop coming back. I know and understand that it is not within your nature to stop leaving, but never stop coming back.
That's what I told him.
---Grace
1 comment:
Some are just born runners - the rare and special ones are the ones that still remember the love (and food) of home. Sargeant is one of those – and I know for a fact that he is very much loved and watched over.
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