So I’m standing there
in the cracker aisle holding
a box in each hand and
trying to decide. I’m reading
the side panel of Wheatables.
He passes by on my right
without a pause and tosses
over his shoulder "The other
one tastes better." I look at
his retreating back. He’s
young, broad-beamed. His
head is shaved. I think he is
not an angel from God.
But I put the Wheatables
back on the shelf anyway.
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a perfect description. All our old dogs have "earned their reward" Now we have one we can't keep from getting up! I miss the old dogs.
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