It’s My Funeral!
Walking my 77 year old dog (in human years) thru the foggy, pre-dawn hours. Giving her relief. She is coated in the rain drenched grass, six inches high. She is slick, black, like my shiny soaked shoes. Looking down, I realize that I feel as if I am wearing ENORMOUS RED CLOWN BOOTS. We sit. I begin to laugh, “It’s my funeral! I want dancing clowns blowing horns as they lay me to rest into my grave!” I blurt, “It’s MY FUNERAL! […]