My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 16th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.
This year, the SOLSC gives me a chance to record memories of our little dog, Indie, who died in January. I want to write these down while they are still fresh, so that my family and I can read them later and remember not only Indie, but little slices of life across the years.
We always joked that Indie was a perma-puppy. A permanent puppy. And now that he’s gone, looking back, he really was. All the way to the end.
Indie had this funny thing he would do all the time. He would just pick up a dog toy, throw it up in the air to himself, and just play. Toss it up. Let it land. Grab it, shake it, roll on it. Toss it in the air again. It was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
As a young dog, we figured it was a vestige of puppyhood, and he’s probably grow out of it. In his middle years, we were so happy each time he did it, expecting that it would probably stop any time now. “Awww look! He still plays like a puppy!” As an old dog, we realized that he was simply a playful dog. “He’s a perma-puppy!”
As he got older, Indie’s legs got stiffer and stiffer. In his last two or three years, he walked a little funny because his hind legs just didn’t bend much. But he still hopped around and played. Instead of running and chasing, he did a funny little bunny hop - his font legs clambering for the ball, while his hind legs kicked behind him.
He did other funny little playful things right to the end - carrying giant sticks around that were way too big for his size, rolling over on his back and swishing his butt from side to side, and wriggling on his backside down the hill in our backyard, like a fuzzy upside down snake.
If only I can stay that playful right to the end. I’ll certainly try my best.