FEDORA:
My dog, she die today.
I don’t know what to do with her.
She too big to dig a hole. Maybe I pay five bucks to take her to the dump. Poor Lucky. She old though. She live her life. I always buy her nice dog food. Nice dog bed, too. Nice everything. She good dog. Never complain. Now she gone. She an old lady. That’s what happen to old lady.
They die.
So I no dig a hole. My back-a-yard is small. I no have room to bury Lucky back there. I put her in my truck and drive her to the dump. That where she came from anyway. They told me at the pound she was half coyote. Those coyotes they live where the garbage is. That’s a where they get there food. Not enough food anywhere else. They starving, those coyotes. They eat anything. So Lucky, she starving, she begging from day one. I take her to the dump.
So I no dig a hole. My back-a-yard is small. I no have room to bury Lucky back there. I put her in my truck and drive her to the dump. That where she came from anyway. They told me at the pound she was half coyote. Those coyotes they live where the garbage is. That’s a where they get there food. Not enough food anywhere else. They starving, those coyotes. They eat anything. So Lucky, she starving, she begging from day one. I take her to the dump.
That’s a where she belong.
I don’t know if I can lift Lucky into my truck. She heavy, and my arms, they old. They tired from lifting my babies all those years. Too tired from scrubbing everything. Carrying grocery bags back and forth, back and forth. My arms no lift Lucky. She too heavy and my arms too tired. I no know what I do.
Maybe I cut off Lucky’s hair and save to make pillow with. That way, I always remember Lucky and her beautiful coat. So healthy looking, even now that she dead. Still shiny from the good dog food I give her. I make nice pillow with Lucky hair inside and when I put my head on it, I always remember what good Lucky is to me for all these years.
I surprise Lucky she even live this long. She go deaf months ago and we communicate with the lights. I yell and I yell "LUCKY, LUCKY!" and she no hear me. So I turn the lights on and off, and then she pay attention to me. She no do much. Just sleep and go outside every once in a while. She an old lady.
I don’t know if I can lift Lucky into my truck. She heavy, and my arms, they old. They tired from lifting my babies all those years. Too tired from scrubbing everything. Carrying grocery bags back and forth, back and forth. My arms no lift Lucky. She too heavy and my arms too tired. I no know what I do.
Maybe I cut off Lucky’s hair and save to make pillow with. That way, I always remember Lucky and her beautiful coat. So healthy looking, even now that she dead. Still shiny from the good dog food I give her. I make nice pillow with Lucky hair inside and when I put my head on it, I always remember what good Lucky is to me for all these years.
I surprise Lucky she even live this long. She go deaf months ago and we communicate with the lights. I yell and I yell "LUCKY, LUCKY!" and she no hear me. So I turn the lights on and off, and then she pay attention to me. She no do much. Just sleep and go outside every once in a while. She an old lady.
That what happen to old lady. They die.
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