There is a boot scrape outside my door. Damn thing sheds more dirt and dust than gets knocked loose surely. It is out of its’ time, and perhaps it was the romance of the thing that spurred me to bring it home. That and the grass of the back yard five dogs let loose destroyed too easy. Grass that law fallow, my attention on the roses. Try, try different, try more, try harder, this marriage can work, I said; my mantra.
In the end though, it didn’t, did it. I lost the house, the dogs gone with the man. Dirt and mud, hadn’t been much of thing since then.
Until my new girl and her little leash…
I knock my boot against the step, watch the dust fly as I scrape heel to toe, my darling girl sitting neat, gazing at the wonder of things in the air and her woman speaking soft and low.
No more cages where the big dogs eat our food, crowd us out, leave us in the corner.
