Lost And Gone Forever
We tore across the canyon, me and Iggy. So good to be roaming around with Iggy again! Have I mentioned about how he never gets outside anymore, on account of Mr. and Mrs. Parsons being so old? They’d even possibly known Bernie’s grandfather back in the ranchland days, or one of them had, the details foggy in my mind – but in the ranchland days Bernie’s family had owned the whole of Mesquite Road and the canyon, too. Or some of it. Bernie’s great-great – maybe even more greats – grandfather had been in Tombstone when the gunfight at the OK Corral happened. I know about the gunfight from My Darling Clementine, a western that’s in the pile of our western DVD’s. We also have a pile of sports DVD’s and another one of animal DVD’s. But let’s get into that some other time. Right now I was just about to … just about to …
Tags: Bernie's grandfather, Iggy, My Darling Clementine
This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 21st, 2009 at 9:20 am and is filed under Chet The Dog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
4:46 am on October 21st, 2009
Is it the memory or the film that is lost and gone forever?
8:09 am on October 21st, 2009
Darling Clementine is gone and lost forever.
Occasionally a sock from the dryer is too.
Sometimes, my car keys, my glasses, and where I parked.
10:11 am on October 21st, 2009
I always lose napkins in the dryer.
5:25 pm on October 21st, 2009
For me it's anything I've written down, specifically so that I can remember it. That little sticky-note (or ripped-open envelope, or frayed piece of notebook paper) always seems to go… away.
5:32 pm on October 21st, 2009
Today, Wojo brought me a boot. It was one of the kids' boots, an old one that doesn't fit anybody anymore. There's a pile of them in our foyer, been there for two weeks now, awaiting the try-on-and-sort exercise my children avoid strenuously, with dread of boredom in their hearts. I was at my computer, checking email, checking the blog, and in he came with the boot in his teeth. We can't get him to fetch a ball yet, so it was kind of a surprise. He put it down solemnly and looked up with an expectant, serious, waiting expression, as if to say, "Here is that boot you requested. Would you like me to bring anything else?" I praised him, since he hadn't eaten it, and he accepted it stoically, then turned in a rather businesslike manner and went on with his work, whatever that might have been. He has to be part shepherd– retrievers think this sort of serious employment is a game.
5:54 pm on November 6th, 2009
Praise for Wojo! Rebecca, you are gifted with word and description. I'm lucky if I can spell or punctuate properly.
…ivy