by Ben McLeod
7 June 2009 (1500 words)
My name is Christina Jacqueline Johns. This is a true story about a beginning AND an ending:
Nathan Johnson, on his front porch, in his housecoat and slippers, ran his hand along the top of the new puppy’s head and then picked up the Tallahassee Democrat.
He groaned as he straightened up. Bending over had become difficult. Squatting down had become damn near impossible.
At the golf course, he had amused himself with the thought of hiring a caddy just to pick up the ball. Then, he amused himself even more by thinking about a putter with a little wire circle attached to the end that would slip over the ball and contract so he wouldn’t have to bend over to get it out of the hole.
As Art Linkletter had said years before: Aging was not for sissies.
The puppy trotted behind Nathan as he shuffled toward the kitchen.
"Ain’t nobody fed you?" He asked the puppy, who wagged his tail obligingly.
As Nathan reached the kitchen, he could see that nobody had fed the puppy. Wanda must not be up.
He put the paper under his arm and walked toward the guest bedroom where Wanda often slept when she came home late.
The puppy put its tail down and followed, disappointed to be moving away from the kitchen instead of towards it.
Nathan open the door, but nothing was disturbed. The room was just like Wanda liked it. Looked like a frilly French whore house to him, but what did he know?
Wanda’d spent a lot of money
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