“Home” is more than where we sleep at night. It is a place that is familiar and comforting, and it gives us a sense of belonging. Home is what and who is local — the places and people we know by heart.- says Jen H at WordPress
This is where my home is in Upper Hutt, New Zealand.
Coco is n Labra-doodle. Sy is meer doodle dan Labra. Baie meer gesofostikeerd in haar doen en late dan n Labrador d.w.s. meer poedel.
Ek pas gereeld my vriendin se huis op. Dit gaan meer oor die oppas van die honde en katte dan van die huis self. Coco het nog n “niggie” wat ook n labradoodle is. Ek sal haar op n latere geleentheid wys.
Coco het n wil van haar eie. Sy hou daarvan om te blaf uit jaloesie as haar maat met my hond speel. Sy wil net heeltyd hê mens moet n tennisbal vir haar gooi.
The opening sentence for the February 12th, Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: “……. For the thousandth time, I promise you, it wasn’t me!” (Permission for this NOT be the opening sentence, but only a sentence included somewhere in your story….granted.)
Looking into her pleading puppy eyes made me smile. Fanny looked up from the bottom of the stairs. Nothing gave anything away that mischief had taken place a minute ago. Suddenly Jack, only four, came rushing in. All covered in chocolate. He stopped dead in his steps when he saw me at the top of the stairs. I put up a face that showed no amusement. Fanny wagged her tail in excitement. Jack stuttered: “Not me….no no.” He stopped and saw my angry face. “Mummy, it was Fanny……for the thousandth time, I PROMISE, it wasn’t me!” I could not help myself; I had to laugh at the picture of innocence on both faces. How could I be angry!
“Lily, my dear lassie, I once had a dog. He was my best friend and companion. I had him before I knew your Grandma.
Saved him from the hands of savage boys who were pulling him around by his broken tail. I grabbed the yelling, tiny pup and ran away. I always safed animals in distress. My Mum said nothing, only helped fix its tail and I gave it some milk.”
Grandpa stopped for a minute or two. Lily could not wait to hear the rest of the story.
“What did you call it Grandpa?”
“Wait Lil, I’ll get there,” Grandpa looked lovingly at the stone dog, continued:
“One day when I went fishing I fell and sprained my ankle. The pup, then nearly one year old, ran home and fetched Mum.
The best part was when he brought Grandma and me together. Grandma and some friends were playing in the garden when a car bashed through the hedge.
Hero and I were passing. He charged, grabbed Grandma and pulled her out of danger.
Now Hero’s spirit guards the back garden and we can always remember him” Grandpa wiped away a tear.
Rover thought: “ Those humans think they know what brute force is! I’ll show them something today.”
Rover was a placid loving black dog. He loved to run around chasing birds and sometimes stray cats too. His master liked to take him out for long walks. Rover hated one thing. He hated it when his master grabbed a stick and shouted at him: Fetch Rover, fetch. Then the next command: Bring Rover Bring.
One day Rover’s master was lazy. He stayed on the veranda and threw the stick.
Rover thought : Grrr I hate this. He charged after the stick. Grabbed it and ran back. Running up the stairs Rover got caught by the rails. He tried to force his way up with no avail. The more Rover growled the less he could go forward. He was so angry that suddenly pushed so hard the stick snapped and he could reach the top. Wagging his tail Rover threw both pieces in front of his master.