My 3rd go at this one... 😅 Wbh 214 Bond ... James Bond
He looked like the walking dead, except he wasnt walking. I remember he was standing, head down in utter defeat, emaciated, practically bald, bad skin, smelled horrible - deemed untouchable by most. I knew i couldnt leave him there. I remember there were vendors and in brokn thai/english i doscovered they fed him and gave meds when they could but he was barely surviving. I didnt even want to pick him up with my bare hands so i went back to the camp office and asked for a towel to wrap him in which they hesitantly gave. When i put it over him and picked him up there was no resistance. Before i walked away i asked if he had a name. I remember my surprise when they replied 'Bond - James Bond. As i walked through the Night Bazaar with this diseased skin and bones shadow of a dog in my arms the crowd parted like the red sea. People looked on with a mix of admiration, pity, and repulsion. I ended up staying in town for about 6 weeks with James, with many trips to the vet. I honestly didnt think he would survive, but he did.
I had to have another go because my first one was flat. I wasnt feeling it that day but ushed myself to write anyway ... Then realized afterward i should have written about one of my childhood dogs. It hurts to write this one ...
Wbh always 234 Chuckie the dog i barely remember
I remember his name was Chuckie. I remember he was a smallish dog, Heda sized maybe a collie beagle terrier mix. I think he was brown and white with longish hair. I remember Chuckie nevr lived inside the house, he was chained to a doghouse in our yard. I sadly remember that Chuckie was mostly neglected. He spent his days at the end of his chain most likely barking, hoping for attention he never got. I remember he was never taken on walks, never got belly rubs like my current dogs get regularly. He was never trained so he was jumpy and over excited which made us avoid him. I dont remember who chose to get him or why - mom or dad. They were in their 30's, dad had a long commute and worked overtime, mom had 3 kids under 11 to manage. No time for a dog really. I dont remember what happened to Chuckie. I remember that back then winters were cold with lots of snow. Did CHuckie have a frozen waterish or did someone make sure he had fresh water every day? I dont remember if he got to come inside when it was too cold or snow was too deep. I feel sad and ashamed as I realize how much i dont remember about Chuckie, the dog we neglected.
so mine was mostly prompted by the Mary Oliver quote. She's been my go-to forever, used to read her under my desk at school when I was bored. She also loved dogs. So here's this. 267 words.
Robins and a kiss
There is something about my dog. He can smell guns. He’s never wrong. He’s a war survivor from Syria. Found on the road by a teenager, who got the attention of a journalist, who happened to be my friend. We got him to the states through a rescue. He was lucky to get in just before Covid.
It’s still cold here, the Chinese New Year, but I’m aware of spring birds making song. I’ve heard them for a few days. Today it’s finally possible to walk where it hasn’t been safe due to all the snow. My dog, with his feral nose, is looking for rabbits I can’t see. He’s anxious. I was interviewed yesterday by ICE about a student I’ve not seen since October. This morning I put on the same coat I was wearing then. The dog smells gun.
We go out before sunrise. Make our way to the marsh, where I let him run. He goes fast, but comes back, smells me again. I remind myself to wash the coat. I’m feeling anger. He nudges my hand, points his nose, then I see them. Two robins, teetering on an old wood beam.
The male bunches bits of brown grass into her beak. She is willing, patient, still. He makes a love nest in her mouth. Over and over he pokes, then tweets his wild tune until sun lifts the morning and she is full with brush. I watch them kiss this chance at life. Then, they are gone.
When I get home, I wash my coat. Later I tell all this to my students, watch their faces lift.
My 3rd go at this one... 😅 Wbh 214 Bond ... James Bond
He looked like the walking dead, except he wasnt walking. I remember he was standing, head down in utter defeat, emaciated, practically bald, bad skin, smelled horrible - deemed untouchable by most. I knew i couldnt leave him there. I remember there were vendors and in brokn thai/english i doscovered they fed him and gave meds when they could but he was barely surviving. I didnt even want to pick him up with my bare hands so i went back to the camp office and asked for a towel to wrap him in which they hesitantly gave. When i put it over him and picked him up there was no resistance. Before i walked away i asked if he had a name. I remember my surprise when they replied 'Bond - James Bond. As i walked through the Night Bazaar with this diseased skin and bones shadow of a dog in my arms the crowd parted like the red sea. People looked on with a mix of admiration, pity, and repulsion. I ended up staying in town for about 6 weeks with James, with many trips to the vet. I honestly didnt think he would survive, but he did.
I had to have another go because my first one was flat. I wasnt feeling it that day but ushed myself to write anyway ... Then realized afterward i should have written about one of my childhood dogs. It hurts to write this one ...
Wbh always 234 Chuckie the dog i barely remember
I remember his name was Chuckie. I remember he was a smallish dog, Heda sized maybe a collie beagle terrier mix. I think he was brown and white with longish hair. I remember Chuckie nevr lived inside the house, he was chained to a doghouse in our yard. I sadly remember that Chuckie was mostly neglected. He spent his days at the end of his chain most likely barking, hoping for attention he never got. I remember he was never taken on walks, never got belly rubs like my current dogs get regularly. He was never trained so he was jumpy and over excited which made us avoid him. I dont remember who chose to get him or why - mom or dad. They were in their 30's, dad had a long commute and worked overtime, mom had 3 kids under 11 to manage. No time for a dog really. I dont remember what happened to Chuckie. I remember that back then winters were cold with lots of snow. Did CHuckie have a frozen waterish or did someone make sure he had fresh water every day? I dont remember if he got to come inside when it was too cold or snow was too deep. I feel sad and ashamed as I realize how much i dont remember about Chuckie, the dog we neglected.
so mine was mostly prompted by the Mary Oliver quote. She's been my go-to forever, used to read her under my desk at school when I was bored. She also loved dogs. So here's this. 267 words.
Robins and a kiss
There is something about my dog. He can smell guns. He’s never wrong. He’s a war survivor from Syria. Found on the road by a teenager, who got the attention of a journalist, who happened to be my friend. We got him to the states through a rescue. He was lucky to get in just before Covid.
It’s still cold here, the Chinese New Year, but I’m aware of spring birds making song. I’ve heard them for a few days. Today it’s finally possible to walk where it hasn’t been safe due to all the snow. My dog, with his feral nose, is looking for rabbits I can’t see. He’s anxious. I was interviewed yesterday by ICE about a student I’ve not seen since October. This morning I put on the same coat I was wearing then. The dog smells gun.
We go out before sunrise. Make our way to the marsh, where I let him run. He goes fast, but comes back, smells me again. I remind myself to wash the coat. I’m feeling anger. He nudges my hand, points his nose, then I see them. Two robins, teetering on an old wood beam.
The male bunches bits of brown grass into her beak. She is willing, patient, still. He makes a love nest in her mouth. Over and over he pokes, then tweets his wild tune until sun lifts the morning and she is full with brush. I watch them kiss this chance at life. Then, they are gone.
When I get home, I wash my coat. Later I tell all this to my students, watch their faces lift.
Oh, this title! And thank you so much for sharing this piece, Thomasin!
Heda wbh 222
My good friend’s family was also at Tule Lake, and my family was at Topaz and Amache. Thank you for sharing your story, Jeanne.
I love the writing prompt today!