When a Scruffy Little Dog Refused to Let an Old Woman Disappear

in the break room.
The grandparent whose texts have gotten shorter, then less frequent, then silent.

The empty booth in whatever diner your life happens to be.

Barnaby is older now. His muzzle is more white than gray. He sleeps more, dreams deeper. But every morning, he still trots to the door of my apartment, wagging his tail as I strap on his saddlebag.continue reading …