|Zara circa December 1987|
I was in the back garden filling my bird feeders the other day (as I
do every day) and, coming in through the porch door, I spied scratches
front of me. I'd seen them before, naturally (many times), but so used
to them am I now that they don't really register with me anymore,
so why they did on this occasion I'm not quite sure.
The scratches had been caused by not just one dog, but three. First,
So what's interesting about that? Well, the back door of that other
It had occurred to me a few years back to fill in the scratches, but
to hear scratching at the back door and a muffled whining, as if some-
is that my ears are playing tricks on me, but then my curiosity kicks in
and I make my way through to the kitchen to check things out.
Whenever I open wide the door, however, only the inky blackness
of the night beyond stares back at me - but the unmistakable smell of
doggie fur hangs in the midnight air, as if I've only just missed a canine
visitor or three wishing to remind me that their spirits yet linger out
in the garden in case I should ever forget them.
Never, my doggie pals - never.
(I'll add a photo of Prince when I can find one.)