beitrag von: Sylvia
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Our dog was half husky half lab, She was black with a white breast badge. She died at seventeen in dog years nineteen plus one hundred her years, with tears we still blab.
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vienna poetry school
Our dog was half husky half lab, She was black with a white breast badge. She died at seventeen in dog years nineteen plus one hundred her years, with tears we still blab.
I've always found that dog years are an especially sad way to measure time and, in this case, loss. The multiplication 'times seven' seems to also multiply our sadness.
She was a lovely dog. Slim legs. Barrel chest. From a home.
Yes. I didn't realise that multiplication of sadness. Some things come out without a thought. Maybe it's the effect of constraints? Hmm.
I see the liquorice nose twitching...
Loving the half husky half lab