okieinexile
Well-Known Member
Warm summer sunshine
By Bobby Winters
Buttercup felt cold.
Most summers she’d felt warm or even hot as she had a generous coat of fur, but this summer had been cold. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her that it’d been colder since her hind quarters began to give out. She would be lying in the sun, dreaming of the Old Man, and wake up in the shade cold. Sometimes when she tried to get up, her hind quarters wouldn’t do it to her.
“Are you sleepy, Buttercup?”
It was the little one with the long hair. She was dressing in short pants.
Buttercup lifted her head up and rose up on her front legs, but her hind legs spun aimlessly on the grass.
Finally something caught and she heaved herself up and limped over to a spot in the sunshine.
The Man walked into the backyard now. He was dressed in overalls like the Old Man wore in her dreams. When the Man wore the overalls, all he did was push the machine that made noise. The Old Man had played with Buttercup. He’d rubbed her head and patted her. The Man didn’t seem to have time for that.
“Hey there, old girl,” he said. “I’m going to be mowing now. You might want to lie on the patio out of the way.”
Buttercup ignored the Man as she usually did.
In spite of the sound of the mower in the background, she drifted off to sleep again and began to dream. It was about a time when it was warm like it had been the summer before. She was next door on the driveway and the Old Man was there.
“Hey, Buttercup,” he said. He sounded winded. He sat down in the lawn chair by which she lay, and he rubbed her head. That’s why she laid there. She liked it when he petted her.
“Have you been sleeping, Sweetie?” he asked. “You like sleeping in the sun don’t you. Better soak up the sun because winter will come, you know. Yes, winter will come.”
They were there the longest time with his hand on her, petting her softly, but then she felt it move more vigorously and heard her name called. The voice had changed though.
“Buttercup, Buttercup.” It was a woman’s voice. She cracked her eyes. It was the Woman.
“Are you okay, Buttercup?” the Woman asked. “I’ve got some food for you.”
Buttercup hadn’t felt much like eating lately.
The Woman pushed some food into her mouth and she chewed it.
“That’s a good girl, that’s Mommy’s good girl.”
The food was good. It gave her strength. Buttercup stood up and walked over to her water dish and began to drink. She raised her head and looked over toward the house next door. It had been quiet since last summer. The winter had come then the spring, but she’d not seen the Old Man again.
The gate between the two houses had once been always open but then it was shut. It was shut through the winter and then through the spring, but she looked now and it was open. She limped over, hoping to see her old friend.
He wasn’t there but maybe he would come. She stretched out on the driveway in the warm summer sunshine. The asphalt from the driveway radiated heat which soaked into her joints and into her back. She felt a comfort and a peace that she’d not known for years. When she opened her eyes, she felt like a pup again.
“Buttercup!” came a man’s voice.
Her eye’s popped open and she stood up on all fours. She spun to the direction from which the voice came and saw the Old Man.
But he wasn’t old.
He stood straight and strong.
“How are you doing, girl?” He squatted and petted her head vigorously. “Has it been rough? It’ll be better now.”
She looked up, and everything was different. The houses were gone. There were fields of flowers and butterflies. There were woods with cool streams.
“Let’s go,” he said.
And they did.
By Bobby Winters
Buttercup felt cold.
Most summers she’d felt warm or even hot as she had a generous coat of fur, but this summer had been cold. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her that it’d been colder since her hind quarters began to give out. She would be lying in the sun, dreaming of the Old Man, and wake up in the shade cold. Sometimes when she tried to get up, her hind quarters wouldn’t do it to her.
“Are you sleepy, Buttercup?”
It was the little one with the long hair. She was dressing in short pants.
Buttercup lifted her head up and rose up on her front legs, but her hind legs spun aimlessly on the grass.
Finally something caught and she heaved herself up and limped over to a spot in the sunshine.
The Man walked into the backyard now. He was dressed in overalls like the Old Man wore in her dreams. When the Man wore the overalls, all he did was push the machine that made noise. The Old Man had played with Buttercup. He’d rubbed her head and patted her. The Man didn’t seem to have time for that.
“Hey there, old girl,” he said. “I’m going to be mowing now. You might want to lie on the patio out of the way.”
Buttercup ignored the Man as she usually did.
In spite of the sound of the mower in the background, she drifted off to sleep again and began to dream. It was about a time when it was warm like it had been the summer before. She was next door on the driveway and the Old Man was there.
“Hey, Buttercup,” he said. He sounded winded. He sat down in the lawn chair by which she lay, and he rubbed her head. That’s why she laid there. She liked it when he petted her.
“Have you been sleeping, Sweetie?” he asked. “You like sleeping in the sun don’t you. Better soak up the sun because winter will come, you know. Yes, winter will come.”
They were there the longest time with his hand on her, petting her softly, but then she felt it move more vigorously and heard her name called. The voice had changed though.
“Buttercup, Buttercup.” It was a woman’s voice. She cracked her eyes. It was the Woman.
“Are you okay, Buttercup?” the Woman asked. “I’ve got some food for you.”
Buttercup hadn’t felt much like eating lately.
The Woman pushed some food into her mouth and she chewed it.
“That’s a good girl, that’s Mommy’s good girl.”
The food was good. It gave her strength. Buttercup stood up and walked over to her water dish and began to drink. She raised her head and looked over toward the house next door. It had been quiet since last summer. The winter had come then the spring, but she’d not seen the Old Man again.
The gate between the two houses had once been always open but then it was shut. It was shut through the winter and then through the spring, but she looked now and it was open. She limped over, hoping to see her old friend.
He wasn’t there but maybe he would come. She stretched out on the driveway in the warm summer sunshine. The asphalt from the driveway radiated heat which soaked into her joints and into her back. She felt a comfort and a peace that she’d not known for years. When she opened her eyes, she felt like a pup again.
“Buttercup!” came a man’s voice.
Her eye’s popped open and she stood up on all fours. She spun to the direction from which the voice came and saw the Old Man.
But he wasn’t old.
He stood straight and strong.
“How are you doing, girl?” He squatted and petted her head vigorously. “Has it been rough? It’ll be better now.”
She looked up, and everything was different. The houses were gone. There were fields of flowers and butterflies. There were woods with cool streams.
“Let’s go,” he said.
And they did.
