It had nothing to do with the dog. Yeah, it was sweet, sitting in the window of the old Bennett house as I’d waited at the bus stop. Its doleful eyes peering out at me, relentless. I’d watched it barking incessantly as the bus pulled away. Silent barks, I’d heard all the way into town.
It had nothing to do with the dog. This was my decision. Josh knew that. I’d explained a dozen times, this is my body, my decision and you’ll just have to live with it. Eventually he had hung his head, and nodded. This was something I had to do.
It had nothing to do with the dog. Its fur, the colour of sand, tickling at my thoughts as I’d walked the few streets from bus stop to clinic. I was familiar with the Bennetts, knew they took in strays and tried to re-home them. Knew they saved those pups from a worse fate.
It had nothing to do with the dog. I just needed some air for a minute before they called my name. Decided to pace the streets a little. I paced them all the way home, where Josh was waiting.
It had nothing to do with the dog. But he’s her best friend now. She clutches great clumps of his fur and squeals, and he licks the jam from her cheeks.
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Written in response to a writing prompt shared by @megpokrass on Twitter.
Blissfully Buried in Books 