Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Sick Puppy

After a long night at the emergency room, we pay the cab driver and walk the stairs to our apartment, carrying precious cargo. It's 5 in the morning, the birds are singing, and the dog that seven months ago we didn't even know existed is now the focus of our universe.

We carry her up the stairs, exhausted, and sleep a few hours. It's my birthday, and I'm 44 years old.

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