The Writer's Cramp. 6/23/20
She was not our first choice.
The first one took our heart but chewed everything in sight.
The second one took our soul but bit the mailman.
The third one paid us no mind, but could walk on a leash with no problem. When we took her home, she slept through the night.
We were third time lucky. We chose her as our dog. We named her Lucky.
Lucky knew what we were thinking before we knew it. She could look into our eyes, know what we wanted. We suddenly understood that if a human could be in a dog, it would be in the form of our Lucky.
Our last days with Lucky were spent helping her do her favorite things. She went to the river, she caught fish, she took long slow walks. She took a last nap near our feet, our hands running through her rough coat. We told her goodbye and thanked her for blessing us with her presence. Her brown eyes took a last look at us, then we knew we were indeed the lucky ones to have known her.
Word Count 185