He had been at the center for so long, it was his last day there. No one wanted him. He was thin, riddled with fleas and worms, and had segments of porcupine quills stuck in his muzzle. There were a few puncture wounds where quills no longer occupied the holes they forged but instead where infection began to settle.
My friend, my anchor, my watchman.
Caught between life and death.
August 27, 2019 Finally, hospice accepted him. He needs more help. My daddy can’t speak but an occasional whisper. He tried to tell me something,…