Visited one of my neighbours today. They have an old dog who is not doing as good as he once did.
"How you doing Beer?" I was asked when they opened the door to see me.
"Still cheating the coffin," I confirmed for them before I reached across their home's threshold with what brought me to their door - dog medicine. I knew their old boy was on the same shit the Hammer was on - two different kinds of it. Good couple hundred bucks worth but no good to me now. If I thought it would give me a fucking buzz I would have finished it by now.
They gratefully accepted the hand me down medicine in the traditional Canadian way: "Come in for a beer."
Inside their dog was lying on a big cushion. Bad hips but otherwise looking good. I went down on the floor for some dog time.
Ended up having four beer as we swapped dog stories. If you have ever had a dog you know how many of those you collect over a dog's lifetime. The three of us were all pretty close to tears a few times. Lucky there was one reason to laugh too.
Do not know what my neighbours thought of our time together. Felt like a god damn good therapy session to me.
Old dogs rule, motherfuckers.
No comments:
Post a Comment