First Tale: A wet misty day, along a main byway in the SE county. A hodgepodge of homes, both stick built and manufactured, along with business warehouses, and undeveloped property. Standing outside of one such business, a construction company with a large dirt yard, I heard a door open and watched an elderly German Shepherd Dog hobble out. Faded, black and tan, etched with a patina of silver. She ambled around the large fenced lot, sniffing here and there, checking for smells, still growing her brain. A short time later, the door sounded again, and an older man stepped out with a worn, green tennis ball in his hand. He, too, was etched with a patina of silver. She looked up, giving wags, as her dear pal approached and gave her some pats. They wandered around together for a bit. Then, he threw the ball for her. As I watched, in my mind's eye, I saw the puppy and the younger man, joyfully chasing sticks and balls. Puppy, all legs and clumsiness, ...
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