the stay true journal

i’m writing now more and more. it’s a comedic tragedy that i’ve found a home in a far right platform and none here on medium. my dog bear is bound by 18 years of age, his white and black fur still shines, but his sad eyes pass by like clouds as he limps towards the back of our lawn’s grassy knoll.

must old age be so sad? so crippling? when should i put the proverbial bullet into my pet’s brain?

when should i let go of a puppy who’s loved me since the beginning of his time? the time i pulled him from a glass box in brussels and stamped his blue european union passport and stole him into my first flat in a country i truly loved.

i will miss his presence. i don’t feel ready to let him go.

but the sun is shining bright in raleigh, it feels like a michigan june. the grass is growing faster than our lawncare, the white cotton tree blossoms are bigger than baby watermelons. a squirrel came into our house and ran through our two queen beds and hid in our sheets and then we couldnt find it, so we left some almonds on the window sill and made a ladder to his freedom.

i haven’t found the squirrel, but there were a few almonds gone.