welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


welcome readers & writers alike. De Langer, M and FilmGuy, thanks for your great stories yesterday!
today's photo prompt is from our family files, one i took of our dog when she was but a pup (as opposed to the ninety pound mammoth she is today). here's my dog story, memoir(ish): 
"Great idea," he says. "You need a dog. Some people just need dogs." I'm floored. My boss is usually the voice of reason, with a side order of iron fist, in fact. I was sure, given the big dark circles under my eyes and the fact that my energy level sucks most days since the baby came, that he was going to climb aboard the ranks of friends (and, ahem, husbands) on the nay say train. "Are you crazy?" being the most common response. So what? I have three children, a job,and a fixer-upper house that demands most of our money and just as much free time. But I need a dog. I am a dog person. Grew up with dogs. Have had a dog most of my adult life. Have finally gotten over the heartbreak of losing the most amazing dog ever (hit by a car) eighteen months ago. Need dog now. Dog brings comfort. Dog brings joy. Dog brings cuddle time and relieves pressure (aforementioned husband is not always the touchy-feely type) from others to cuddle. Dog brings unconditional love and sweetness. 
Of course I was crazy. Especially crazy to get a puppy type dog. She brought chaos and arguments, a back yard full of poop and a permanent, fine dusting of dog hair. And, being a Boxer/Bull Mastiff mix, ever so much energy that she knocked our tiny children over just by wagging her kangaroo tail within two feet of them. But that was the first three years. Now that she's a grown up girl (twenty-five in dog years), she brings comfort. Joy. Cuddles. Unconditional love and sweetness. 
what about you? have a dog/pet story, poem or creative non fiction piece in ya? one about slumber or must-haves? share it below by clicking on comments. 250(ish) words or less. i love to read your work!


  1. “I’m fed up with this.” Rex said. “It’s the same thing everyday, nothing ever changes.”

    “Why, what do you want to happen? “ asked Brutus.

    “I dunno, just something different.”

    “But we have a good thing going here. Free board, free food, our own space. It’s all good.”

    “I know. But it’s just that there has to be more than this.”

    “Like what?” asked Brutus.

    “Like something!!” snapped Rex.

    “Oh you are just talking rubbish again. It’s always the same with you. You are never happy with your lot. You always get ideas above your station. We are what we are Rex. Things are what they are and that is it. The sooner you get used to it the better things will be for you…and ME!!

    Rex sniffed the air as if he was expecting to find an answer there. He scratched his ear and look around and everyone else. They all seemed to be happier with their lot. Why couldn’t he just accept who he was, what he was?

    “Look forget about.” he said after a few moments. “I’m sure I’ll get over it in a few minutes.”

    They stared in silence for a while. Time ticked past slowly, predictably, inevitably.

    “Did you fetch the ball and stick?” Rex asked.

    “Yep.” said Brutus before picking them up.

    “Right, might as well do our job and get these dogs walked before the Boss comes back.”

    Rex and Brutus picked up the dog leads and started towards the park. At least it was a dry day.

  2. It was too much to resist. How could you not? She looked around quickly for the noisemaker. Pups at that young age were constantly making noise and she didn't want to be disturbed.

    Did she dare? Pack-mama was no where around and she knew there might be a punishment, but really, it was just lying there on the floor. Waiting. Unclaimed.

    One step...
    Quick glance...
    Duck head, sniff...
    One paw on, then all four...
    Keep looking...
    One turn, two, three...

    So this was why the cat was always on the big sleeping cushion.

  3. I am lying here on the floor staring at my new giant puppy. There is a sense of wonder looking at this massive sleeping beast-to-be… her chest rising and falling. That massive head and slobbering jowls. The golf club hard battle tail. The sturdy short-haired body covered in doggie muscle. And here she lies sleeping as I watch. Did I mention she has just a touch of temper? Oh, she is a good dog. Really. But sometimes the mood can get… intense. And really, I like my fingers. Still. I reach out to her, controlling my breathing. Slowly palm out. I am focused now because this… this will be a careful moment. I would hate to wake her. Looking at that sweet face. But you know what? I want my goddamn remote, and she is lying on it!

  4. I fall for a sweet, slumbering, furry face everytime, but thanks to the ownership of a Blood Hound, I no longer have the desire to bring one home. I am greeted with doleful brown eyes daily. She now bays her happiness every time you walk in the door. She enjoys eating roasts off the stove--the official poison tester for the family. Doesn't every family need one? Her ears are as soft as the plant, 'Lamb's Ears.' They are so soft to stroke. Luckily, I will have my house recarpeted after she is no longer with us--what a great parting gift huh? If only one of her presents was the money to do it.

    Yes, I too used to fall for a sweet, slumbering puppy face--but no more. Thanks to my Blood Hound I am cured.

    Sweet dreams.

  5. The New Living Thing

    As luck would have it, I could just peer over the top of the slumbering puppy, the new living thing in the house. I can tell you, it was hard referring to it as a puppy. It would have felt much more accurate to have called it behemoth or gargantuan but puppy was what it was and I cringed at thinking that it would get bigger. It was tough for many of us during the past few months with all the chewing going on. The new non living thing in the house was just visible over the behem… I mean, puppy and was lying on the floor in a puddle of slime. “Pssst.” I hissed. “Hey, puppy toy, can you hear me?” It was bright orange and had all these spiky things sticking out all over it. Pretty cool looking from my perspective although the color was dumb knowing that dogs were color blind. “Hey.” I said again. “The coast is clear. The puppy’s asleep. Oh, and you were brilliant. Thanks for letting him chew on YOU this time.” There was a low moan from the direction of the toy. “What do things call you? Everything here calls me TB short for Thomas Blanket as in Thomas the Tank Engine… Blanket. You’ve heard of me? Haven’t you?” The only reply was a large glob of puppy drool detaching from one of the spikes and plopping onto the carpet. “It’s ok, you’ll have plenty of time to rest, he’ll be out for hours.” One of the spikes that had been pressed into the toy during play time popped out. A sigh of relief came from the toy and then a shallow quivering voice, “Thank goodness they need to sleep.”

  6. Sitting in the sink, she plotted the overthrow of society as she knew it. No more humans, or dogs, or cats, for that matter. Just lots of food, and her little brother Henry, stupid, loyal and perpetually pleased. Maybe birds. She liked the occasional distraction of batting at the cage.

    Fidget was twenty pounds, calico (of course) and staring at the yellow-tiled bathroom with furtive green eyes. The sink, small and free standing, didn't quite hold her bulk. She let it spill over the sides, puffing up her fur. It looked more grand that way, anyway.

    Tail twitching, she lifted up one delicate paw and began to lick, every now and then stealing a glance over at Henry, sitting patiently in the shower. He was gray and white and thin and stupid. But he had his uses. And most days Fidget liked him. Easily pleased, he seemed almost to smile as he lapped at the puddle of water on the dipped tile of the old shower.

    "Tonight," she said in a low voice.

    "What?" Henry asked, his head twitching up from the stale water.

    "Tonight, you stupid imbecile," she purred, "We begin in earnest."


    "Yes! Tonight we claw Jake. Tomorrow . . . the world."

    "Jake?" Henry implored, "But isn't he our bodyguard?"

    "He dies!"

    "All right! But then tomorrow can we go get breakfast? You promised me pancakes."

    "Fine!" she bellowed, "Now help me out of this sink . . . "

    From the corner of the room the new puppy stared up at the two cats with a distinct frown on her face. Jake? Were they talking about the old family dog? He had told her to give the cats a wide berth. She had thought he was referring to Fidget's girth, but . . .

    "Ah, well," she sighed, and pawed at the wood floor experimentally. It was slippery on her big paws, so different than the metal grooves of the cage at the pound. "I best head back downstairs. Almost time for Animaniacs . . ."

  7. Of course it was raining as I rushed to the door,late for work,and starting a Monday behind the 8 ball was never a good option.
    "Come on Fred,outside."
    He raced for the door to do his business as I kept up my motherly encouragement.
    "Come on baby,come on."
    "Freddie,lets go baby." I said in my sing-song voice.
    Poking my head into the rain,I instantly noticed the side gate unhinged.
    Darn,I thought,dumb paperboy.And I went.
    I spotted him 'bout 4 houses down,soaking wet and covered in mud.I too was now drenched and not happy.Finally retriving him,after what seemed to be playtime to my little buddy, we sloshed into the house ;Mud splattered, wringing out as he canvassed it all over the floor.
    Quickly I threw him in the tub, half -wash was way more than I had time for.
    Done.A few rubs of the towel and he was off.
    I looked at my floors then myself in the mirror.I felt the defeat

    I rounded the corner and there he was ,newly showered and sleeping like the baby he was in the sun that now had broken the sky.

    "This is Nan Anders, I won't be in today."
    I put down the mop and thought,Thanks Fred.
    And I crawled back in bed.