Dying Breed


She had been old.  She was on the threshold of dying.  And, still vanity had the best of him…her companion.  One leg lame, yet, her loyalty has never waned.

Together with their his and her gait…a menacing, comical stride.  The couple could be spotted for miles and miles and miles.

Her human bristles upon the touch of even the most…common hand.  A permanent scowl below his white on gray mustache.  But on a good day.  When no one is looking.  His senior companion can lean slightly in for support and a pat.  And…a faint curl of pride hidden behind the frowning whiskers magically appears.

The old man’s friend knows it is time that she go.  She has prepared for years.  Ready and able to cross that bridge.  At this part in the road…she will go.  She has taught the old man…as much as, he’ll ever know.

The old grizzled gal, from a pup to adulthood, has always had Moxie…Hence the name.  Once wild and woolly.  Her coat is now coarse.  Her sight, a bit less.

With foggy eyes.  She glances to her companion and thinks,

‘Time to teach this old guy…a new trick.’

Lessons have never been easy to impart.  The old man has always worn his surliness like a faded flannel vest; up close and tight fitting.

Vanity has it’s place.  Moxie has owned it like the kindled kindness upon her face.  Jowls tucked up and in…Moxie wears loyalty with a grin.

Today will be the day.  Her last lesson?

Showing the old man that letting her go…Does not mean they will never see each other again.

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