Kill the Word "Never"

           A couple of years ago, I said (and had been saying for a long time) that I would never write a romance story. However, a couple of romance anthologies called out for submissions, I wrote two short stories and one (not my best one, in my opinion) was published.

          I have said (for decades) that fiction is not and has never been my thing. I'm a creative nonfiction type of gal. Memoir is what I like writing. And yet one of the pieces I'm most proud of is a fictional short story about Bigfoot. (I still haven't found a home for it.) Currently, I'm 50,000 words into a fictional manuscript. There are times I feel like saying, "I will never finish this," but I bite my tongue and remain optimistic...

         And even though I know that death is inevitable, I thought we'd never lose Huey. Huey came to us as a foster dog a few years ago. His owners had moved and just left him--a senior dog--to fend for himself. He was always funny about thresholds--he'd do several quick left turn-arounds before coming up the two steps into the kitchen--and in fact when he first came to us, we'd have to lift him into the house, because he'd refuse to cross the threshold.

This is Huey when we first got him.

        When Teddy (the little dog who lives behind us) would be out running the perimeter of his yard, Huey galloped (as much as an old guy can gallop) and tried to join in the fun. Huey was always in the mood for getting petted. At times he was a grumpy old man, but he earned it. After all, he was just shy of being sixteen years old.

        Last week I got up and Huey couldn't get up. His hind legs could no longer move. We made an appointment for that evening. He was fed lots of treats, he got to take a last ride in the car as he savored the smells--the windows down and the wind blowing his ears back--and he was put out of his pain.

        Here's a picture of Huey on his last day:

         So, the first two nevers I should do without. Perhaps I'll write another romance (but probably not, as I'm not very good at it). I'm sure that I will write more fiction and am determined to finish my manuscript. However, there is one never I am going to hang onto.

          I will never forget Huey...

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Huey, a dapper, at-least-ten-years-old gentleman

       
          Yesterday I was at a meet and greet event at Wolfgang's new location on Washington Avenue in downtown St. Louis. We are trying to find Huey a forever home. (If you're interested in a handsome, well-behaved senior fellow, go to Love a Golden Rescue. He's a wonderful dog.)

          There were two other (younger) dogs, who spent most of the time playing with and barking at each other. They grabbed each other's neck in their mouths. The "snapped" at each other (their brilliant white teeth flashing, but no blood was drawn). They left trails of slobber on each other.

           One of the dogs was Mr. Wilson, a dog who has a golden heart but isn't a golden. He is gorgeous, he's young and he's en-er-get-ic. (The photos below don't do him justice.)

He's a Lab mix, is around 90 pounds but still needs to fill out a little.

          Often it looked like Mr. Wilson and his playmate were fighting. But looks can be deceiving.

          At times, we might be sitting at our computer, and it might appear as if we are just sitting there. Like we're doing nothing. After all, we're not tapping away at our keyboard, so jumping to that conclusion is logical.

          But perhaps we are mentally doing some re-writing or even writing. Maybe we are searching for the perfect word. It might even be that we are imagining a scene in our heads and breaking it down, so we can recreate it on paper.

         Yes, looks can be tricky, they can suck you into making the wrong assumption. And now, about those dogs. Are you in the mood to rescue either Mr. Wilson on Huey? (I'll make some fudge for any takers.)