You see these small roadside memorials occasionally. This one was a white cross with silk flowers tattered by blowing rains, a frayed ribbon, a dog’s collar.
She was Abby. Her dog was Rex.
The drunk, just out of rehab, was leaving another bar, squinting woozily as I pulled the trigger.
Jim Purdy is a retired engineering manager who lives in Oregon and spends his day with his faithful dog who never gives him disparagement. She wags her tail as he reads her whatever he has just written.
That last sentence gave me a chill. I did not see that coming.
Thanks, hopefully there was a nice warm thought soon after!
Justice served and nothing but a puddle along the road to remember him by!
Thanks for reading and leaving a comment. We’ve all seen roadside shrines. This was my attempt to venerate one I saw. A writer taking a life on paper is different than a drunk driver taking lives with a careening two-ton weapon.
Great writing Jim. I lost a friend to a drunk driver myself to a guy who had a passed alcohol and drug problem. Really sad.
I paid for lots of cab rides, getting car keys away from friends who needed to get home and could barely steer themselves, much less an automobile. Never regretted pre-paying one of those cab rides! Most of them did not remember the ride home, so imagine what could have happened.