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

Thursday, November 11, 2010


welcome, readers & writers! 
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writers, looking for your pet stories, poems or creative non-fiction (memoir, anyone?) thoughts today. click on comments below to share.  readers, comments are open to you, too.  here's my doggie memoir, a memorial.

Maddy was the best dog I could ever hope to have, though to say "have" her doesn't feel quite right. I wasn't her owner, and I definitely wasn't her master, because - though she loved me - she never obeyed me much at all. She was just family, I guess. A furry little Ewok (black chow chow) about the size of a small watermelon when I brought her "home" to my college apartment, one which didn't allow pets, by the way. At full grown she was the size and shape of a big kid black bear. Once, when I took her for a walk around my apartment complex, a foreign exchange student very new to our country asked me, in a tremulous voice, "Is it bear?" She looked relieved to know that we crazy Americans aren't out walking our bears every morning.   
Maddy-girl was sweet and stubborn, smart and playful. She thought about being fierce for about ten minutes when she was a pup, but once she was too big to growl at people from under furniture, she decided to go the docile route. She loved, loved to run and be chased... which made life difficult sometimes. At the least convenient moment possible she'd squeeze her way out the door as I was leaving or coming home and take off. I - and anyone else kind enough to help - would run after her for blocks. She was super fast. Every once in awhile she would stop, panting, and smile at us, watching until we got almost close enough to catch her, and then she'd take off again. She did this game for years until she got old. Eventually we stopped chasing her because the whole thing would end much faster after she'd had her run and come back home with a grin on her face. 
By the time she was twelve, almost thirteen, she was not only my dog anymore; she was well loved by my husband and my two boys (one on the way). She'd been with me through college, graduate school, a number of very broken hearts, engagement, marriage, and two new babies. Always gentle, always sweet. In her last few years with us she mostly slept and watched the children play. She couldn't see or hear very well and so would kind of vacantly wag her tail when you'd talk to her. And she never played her chase game anymore, something I was grateful for. 
On the night of November 1, 2004 - All Saints Day - in the chaos of the bedtime hour, I put her outside to do her business. I took a little longer getting back to her than usual and when I opened the door she wasn't there. She'd wandered off to our front yard and, heartache of heartaches, been hit by a car right in front of our house. Writing about the rest that night, and the days that followed, is too long and still too hard. 
But I will tell you that several months later, still feeling awfully guilty and empty and sad, Maddy came to me in a dream.  I was walking up and down the aisles of a warehouse like place looking for her.  I rounded a corner and saw her way at the end of an aisle. She came running to me, grinning. She was young and spry and just herself. I knelt down and hugged her, feeling her silky woolen coat and kissing the bridge of her soft nose.  After that dream, there was peace. I miss her still, but I know she's okay. And I fully expect to see her again.

come write with me!


  1. "You should buy it," I teased.
    "No, YOU should buy it," my best friend teased back. “Find a man who will lie on it and polish your toenails."
    We nodded at the man behind the booth who was regarding us rather curiously at this point and kept making our way down the aisle at the indoor flea market.
    I looked at Nicole, who was twirling one brown lock around her finger and tilting her head to the side as she examined a case full of airbrushed tee-shirts.
    "Why are we here again?" I asked, perusing a selection of velvet paintings. No Elvis. Huh.
    “Because we had to get out of the car before we both went mental.”
    “Oh, right,” I said, wondering if I had already gone a little mental. Twelve hours on the road in the same clothes while eating fast food burgers was bound to make anyone go a little – or a lot – mental.
    We glided past booths selling used books, a Mary Kay vendor and successfully avoided the man catcalling to us to witness Miracle Magic, the world’s best carpet cleaner. I only smiled politely, though part of me wanted to stop and tell him that the only carpet I owned was on the floor of my 2002 Mitsubishi.
    “Are you sure we did the right thing?” I heard myself ask as we exited the small building and angled toward my car again.
    Nicole’s eyes widened and tears began pooling in them and suddenly, I regretted asking the question we’d been avoiding since we climbed in the car back in Ohio. Nicole and I stood on opposite sides of my car, the pile of white fluff that was her wedding dress crammed atop our luggage in the back seat. She looked at the garment and then back at me over the roof of the car and shook her head, sending her professionally curled hair bouncing.
    “I’m only sure of one thing. That if I would have married Chet, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life.”
    It was good enough for me. I gave her a nod and we climbed into the car and rolled down the windows. The air conditioning had died somewhere in Southern Georgia. As I keyed the ignition, Nicole rested a hand on my arm. “Alex?” she said to me, “You really are the best maid of honor a girl could ask for.”

  2. *SNIFF!* I couldn't - just couldn't - muster up a dog story for all of the ways I feel reading about your pooch. That's why I wrote about a couple of girls... at a flea market. :-) Great story - I suspect you WILL see her again, and I will see Corky, Ziggy and Murphy again as well!

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  4. Thanks for your story, Jess! It's lots of fun and we need a little levity around here today :) Thanks, also, for your affirmation of faith about doggies in heaven.

  5. Aww. Demery, you made me cry (in a good way), and Jessica, you made me laugh. Both great ways to start the day. You guys rock. :)