The Chair He Bought, The Dog They Tried to Take, and the Choice

me keep my dog.

That night, Barnaby’s breathing sounded heavier than usual.

We slept in the den.

Me in my wheelchair beside the chair, a thin blanket over my knees.

Barnaby in the chair, his paws twitching like he was running in a dream.

At 2:13 AM, I reached out and touched the cracked leather. Felt the grooves Eleanor’s fingers had worn into it over decades continue reading …