So I haven’t posted in about three weeks. I’ve been moving to a bigger and nicer place (yay!) while trying to crush Camp NaNoWriMo (yay!) also while writing the first draft of my thesis proposal (less enthusiastic yay!), and although I probably could have squeezed in a bit of flash writing every few days, this blog went on the back burner. At the end of July, I’ve:
- Successfully moved and settled in my dogs and bearded dragon!
- Gotten a library card for the local library, which it turns out is actually pretty cool because its a well-funded city library!
- (somehow) Reached my Camp Nano goal of 50,000 words with 254 to spare!
- Made a certain amount of progress on my thesis proposal!
August will have to be dedicated to my thesis.
Before I get back to that, let me brush off the dust on my blogging muscles and whip out a flash fiction. Because I can’t think of anything else to write at the moment, I will write about my dog, Marty. (After finishing it, I realized it kind of sounds like Marty is dead… He is not. He is sitting by me as I write this.)
The dog that no one wanted when he most needed love laid across the hardwood floor between three separate dog beds of varying comfort as if he’d always lived snug in luxury’s lap. In over a decade of life, Marty had seen more than most but as Father Time dyed his silky black hairs gray and white, so too did he rob him of the sight to see any barriers ahead of him. A mop of hair covered the scar where an eye once sat. Few knew how blind he was, or how deaf he was becoming, least of all Marty. He battled arthritis with stoic grace. His numerous missing teeth never tempered his gluttony. On walks he plodded behind his brothers fresh out of their puppy years with the confidence of a dog who knew they’d get to that scent eventually. And despite abuse, neglect and homelessness, he greeted every person with a tail full of wags and a mouth full of halitosis.