IT'S A LUCKY LUCKEY LIFE
Everyone is hynotized by my big round walnut-colored eyes. Sand-toned fur, curly tail feet and short little legs; a wrinkled face and pug-ed nose both add to my cuteness. I was 'kicked to the curb.' "Man, they had some doggone nerve."
Roaming, hopelessly, for miles on end; lost hungry and disoriented. I'm unable to sing, so I just kept 'howling the blues.' Large moving things kept flying past me (things I'd never seen). I must have been having a really bad dream.
A man stopped to pick me up. He was inside of something, with a big cage on the back. I knew that he would help. His voice was so gentle. After, cautiously, lifting my poor tired and weakened body into his arms, he placed me inside of the cage.
My new home was full of other puppies and even some older dogs (like my mother). The people there fed me, washed me and even occasionally rubbed me. One of them 'fixed me,' so I'd never be a daddy. Now, isn't that a dog-sh-mess? Most of the other puppies and older, eventually, got to leave.
The weeks and months continued to pass by. Nobody seemed to want me. So, each day, I would just sit and cry. I overheard my new owners talking. They were talking about my "days are now numbered." I wasn't exactly sure what they meant, although, the sick feeling inside of my gut was giving me a hunch. 'That day' was only twenty-four hours away.
Later, that same afternoon, a nice man came to visit me. The lady who had been taking care of me explained to him, that tomorrow would be my final day here. I was going to sleep, forevermore. The nice man looked at me (as we both stared into one another's eyes) with a warm smile on his face. He, finally, told the lady---"I'll take him." "Bow-wow" what a great surprise!
He carried me to his car, then put me onto the back seat. We, slowly, began to drive to my brand-new home. The nice man talked to me, like nobody else had ever done before. He spoke to me, as if speaking to another person. I understood, that he truly, loved me already. This, I could honestly feel. Then, all of sudden, he asked me about my name. He quietly said (with a questionable tone)---"What will we call you?" "Let's see, Brownie, Sarge or Prince?" "No. I got it, LUCKEY!" "Today is your LUCKY day." I, excitedly, jumped clear over the seat and began to frolic-ly lick his face. "LUCKEY" has been my name ever since (for thirteen whole years now). I wouldn't want to have it changed or have it any other way.
Veola Carter Copyright2007
Excerpt from my book of poetry and short stories: "A Touch of Quantum Reflections"