We held a backyard funeral for Oscar the dachshund. I delivered a memorial about squirrels, ear scritches, and bacon.
Our toddler loved him fiercely. I asked if he wanted to add anything. He knelt, patted the grave, and offered, “Just, ‘Good boy.'”
He always did know what Oscar liked best.
Beth is a whirling dervish who pauses now and again to write something. Her blog can be found at sideglimpses.blogspot.com and she can be found drinking coffee.
A week into summer, Max the bearded dragon was acting weird. He didn’t move, flinch to catch his cricket dinner, or want to be touched.
Then one day, as Mike, Max’s keeper, walked into his room, he saw three tiny eggs tucked neatly away.
Turns out Max was a Maxine.
Today’s story came from Ashley Brozic.
I know this guy who saves puppies. He hears the world’s gonna end. He doesn’t believe it, he’s not religious, but he wants it to be true. When it doesn’t happen, he’s depressed.
So was I. I was depressed because the guy who saves puppies wants the world to end.
Walter Campbell lives and works in Philadelphia, went to school in New England, and grew up in LA, but he’ll write pretty much anywhere. Recently, his work has been published in Jersey Devil, Six Sentences, Dogzplot, MicroHorror, Toasted Cheese, and Glossolalia.
It seemed like they were made for each other, the boy and his elephant.
They ate, played, and slept together. They worked, lazed about, and made friends together.
They rode on each other’s backs and washed one another with their trunks.
They were almost indistinguishable, the elephant and his boy.
This story is based on a title suggested by @salmir.
He just can’t leave, thank God. He loves me too much, knows how much I need him. The vet said he’d be long gone by now. Months ago, in fact. There was no hope. What better way to prove them wrong than to simply thrive, living on love and devotion?
M. Elaine Moore is a North Carolina-based fiction writer and poet. Her work can be found in print in The Island Breeze, and Outer Banks publication, and online at Foliate Oak Literary Journal, Four and Twenty, and The Camel Saloon.
He fell to his knees and held his hands to his chest, praying earnestly to the Lord.
He sobbed and cursed as they lowered the casket into the ground.
The nurse gently took his arm and led him back inside.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Fredrickson,” she said. “We’ll get you another goldfish.”
Laura Chester is a sixth form student hoping to go to university to study Creative Writing.
We called the dog El Pancho. I never knew why. Maybe it was the weird brown spot on his back. He had two lame legs and always smelled like rotting cheddar, and sat at the flagpole every day after school, but no one ever came.
One day, neither did he.
John Funk is Games Editor at The Escapist, and has been gaming and writing for most of his life thus far. He has far too many plastic robot models on his desk at work and thinks those dirty Horde can go jump off a bridge.
Pam’s boss asked her to help raise some puppies that he’d found. Pam was quick to offer her help. She sincerely promised her husband, “No more dogs.” They would find homes.
Little Leo, with his pink nose and blue eyes, has now been part of Pam’s family for three years.
Sabrina Hicks has a passion for writing and animal rights. Besides writing she donates time at animal shelters and now owns three dogs, one cat, and a bird.
Editor’s Note: Aaaaaaaawww…