My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 13th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.
My little dog, Indie, is asleep on the couch next to me as I type this. He’s very old. He’ll be 14 in June. His breathing is labored, his breath is stinky, and he has a lot of warts now. He sleeps away most of the day, most days. His hips are sore and his legs are stiff. He’s got scars and sore spots from old injuries. But he still loves to play. In a few minutes, he’ll wake up, hop of the couch (as best he can), and gingerly pick up one of his toys and bring it to me. His teeth are sore from a recent infection, so I’ll know not to actually pull on the toy. Instead, I’ll pretend to grab it from him, which will make him super excited. He’ll hop around with the toy in his mouth “pretending” to play like a puppy—but more carefully so as not to bump his mouth, or hurt his sore hips. His little legs are stiff, and sometimes he falls down. But he still plays with us.
You know how they say owners grow to resemble their pets? Lately, I’m feeling a lot like Indie. One ailment or injury after another seems to plague me; I’m exhausted all the time. I could list all the diagnoses and issues I have, but who really wants to read all that? The pandemic is already depressing enough. Instead, just take my word for it. Just like my little old dog, I have a lot of issues. Aches and pains, old injuries that still haunt me, but also some more serious stuff too. Most days I just want to sleep the entire day, like Indie.
But… just like Indie, when I’m not sleeping, I still know how to play.