Big Blue Dog

The big blue dog got around to it.  It took plenty of time, but, as you should know, dogs are very deliberate.  They’ve got to look the situation over before they make the final call.  But when they make that call, they’re all in.

And perhaps this is where the problems come from.  It’s really hard to make a blue dog change his mind once he’s been through the process.

So we sent in our lawyers.  And I’m sure he won’t know what hit him, because, for all of their careful preparation, dogs never expect lawyers…

Tim was desperate for a win.  He’d been through this countless times before, and sometimes they came, but more often they left him high and dry, holding the bag and feeling like an utter failure. 

But he was sure this time would be different. He had the support of his family and especially the woman he loved.  He was winning the respect of those at the office who only a short time before had laughed at his constant losses.  Things were really turning around for him.

Or so he thought. 

That morning when he came in, he was feeling good – light on his feet, ready to go, sure of himself.  He didn’t notice the small man sitting in reception.  Maybe he should have.

The man had a stack of papers on his lap nearly a foot high; papers double-wrapped in red plastic twine with a bow on top that formed a handle.  As Tim breezed in and as he passed the secretary, the man got up and quietly followed.  He was small, but the bundle of papers seemed light in his hands. The secretary didn’t even notice him as he moved silently closer to Tim.  As a matter of fact, no one seemed to notice him as he drew closer until, by the time Tim reached his office, the man was in arms length.

Which was the distance he needed to swing the parcel around in a perfect arc to bring it down on Tim’s head.

And as Tim crumpled to the floor, his final thoughts were, “I guess this too is not going to be my day.”

As the days grow short,
the comfort of a book calls.
Autumn Brings me peace

It took twenty-seven years for the doctor to finally admit he’d killed a man.

It wasn’t his fault.  Or so he told himself for all of that time.  But he knew.  He knew.  If he’d only been more attentive in surgery class, he wouldn’t have accidentally removed that guy’s head.

I guess we can all agree though now that admitting his mistake is really the first step.