Weekend Writing Prompt #248: This weekend you challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 55 words using the word “Capricious”.
Flustered Felix is fickle, but fun. He has few friends, but I am one. Nonsense bugs him, ‘cuz he’s sane. You’d never guess that from his name. Quirky guy who acts on whim And cares not what you think of him. His moods are funny and seem facetious, But there’s no doubt that boy’s capricious.
(Click on photo to enlarge.)This is a photo of my dear, departed, neighbor, Cooper. Every morning, this handsome fellow, used to look into my back porch, through the door window, until I would notice him. We had a ritual of a hug and a dog treat. I believe he enjoyed them both, equally. Miss you old friend.
Buffy rolled back his upper lip and grinned. It was the collie in him. He smiled when he was excited and when our car pulled into the dooryard, he was very happy.
I loved him in spite of his lack of kindness to the feral cats. He’d sadly ended the misery for a few who had gotten in his face. I luckily had never witnessed that. This was an oversight in his upbringing that I could not reverse but, as a playmate, he was the very best. He would have given his life to protect me. This I was sure of.
When my parents ended their visit with grandma and grandpa, I would be staying. Buffy and I would have many hours to ourselves.
The chores on my grandparents’ farm, waited for no one. After a very early breakfast, I was left alone to play, while the adults did the morning milking. Sometimes, I would spend the first hour among the cows at the new milking “parlor”, but more often, opted to play with my pal and my imagination.
It is only now, that I realize how much my company meant to Buff. Unless the cows got out and he was asked to herd them back, he was overlooked. An occasional pat on the head was the most he could hope for when I wasn’t around.
The sound of house sparrows brings me back to, the two of us , sunning ourselves on the steps. The birds would flutter in the dusty driveway to ward off mites in their feathers. Buffy would lean into me so very hard as I wrapped my arms around his neck. The smell of dust, hay chaff and grease ( from lazing around beneath farm equipment) greeted my nostrils when I buried my face in his fur. A combination that would have been repugnant had it not been the smell of my pal. I’m sure that I will be moved to tears should I find the same odor again. What a bitter sweet surprise that would be.
Then off we’d go. I’d be a master dog trainer and he was my willing pupil. I made up hand signals for him to follow. I’d wave and he’d jump a bale of hay and follow a maze that I had created. It took many hours and a lot of sweat to manage the hay bales alone. But, I had all day and very friendly company by my side.
Sometimes we’d just sit in the grass on the hill overlooking the barn. Buffy would whine with pleasure as I rubbed his belly. We enjoyed the breeze that that spot always had. The squawk of red-winged blackbirds and the fragrance of phlox, each bring me right back to those moments. My grandmother’s house was surrounded with phlox of every color and the “crik” below had a marsh where the red-winged blackbirds nested.
Once in awhile, I wish Buffy could have known what it was like to be a family dog. But, It just would not have fit him somehow. He was a dog of his time. Instead of wondering “what if ?” , I’ ll cherish how we belonged to each other, back then, and shared a place and time, where we needed a pal.
I enjoy the sound of our friend Jeff’s voice. Usually the only voices that I notice are those that I find irritating.
We’ve known Jeff for about 10 years. Each and every time he speaks, I am surprised by the gentleness and its calming effect. I’ve told him that he should read childrens stories for audio tapes. He thinks that I am joking but I am not.
Jeff is quite a character alright. He acts like a crusty hillbilly but has the gentlest spirit. His voice cannot hide who he really is… nature loving, sentimental and kind. Most people wouldn’t take the time to get to know him since he sports a long beard and a pistol in a holster. Jeff says that he really doesn’t like people and prefers to be left alone but I watched him change an elderly man’s flat tire without a moment’s delay. He was polite and eager to help.
Please do not tell him that I can see his soft side! He works so very hard to be tough.
If you close your eyes and listen to his voice, there is no question about his heart.
During Labor Day week, Zabby and Kat renewed their friendship. After getting 20 strikes in a row, Zabby found bowling boring. Katherine and Zabby hugged and said they were sorry to have drifted apart.
Zabby, Alodda and Arthur went to Old Orchard Beach on vacation with Katherine. According to Kat, they all remembered their bathing suits and found sand dollars on the beach. The car did not seem over crowded for some reason?
THIS JUST IN:
Zabby Eight has been up to her usual pranks.
Just yesterday, she took the last sheet of toilet paper, knocked down the baby gate and tore away some of Katherine’s play dough while Kat was using the bathroom!
She is very hard to locate due to her invisibility. Be on the look out for an imaginary girl ranging in height from 2″ to 5’9″. She often wears purple and has red curly hair. She usually hangs around with her little brother Arthur but he has gone back to deep-sea diving school. Alodda, the third member of the threesome, wears green and loves the outdoors. Alodda, has been known to avoid Zabby when she is being impish.
If anything strange and naughty happens at your house please call 555-help and Katherine will come over and bring her back.
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