My faithful

My sister’s dog died six years ago and I cried.  When she was alive, she’d always meet me at the roadside near the family house whenever I come home.  I don’t know how she was able to tell of my arrival but I guess that’s why there’s such a thing as sixth sense.  She also walked me whenever I go out of the house all the way to the road until I got into a taxi.  At the door, when I’m about to leave, she’d give me a kind of nod and grunt before leading the way.  She was my faithful.

Her only surviving pup, also a she, didn’t have that connection with me.  But Peachie, her female pup, now grown up, is, to my fascination, like her grandma.  She’s always there to meet me when I come home and walk me when I go out the house.

dog via remainsimple


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