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September 14, 2018 Fiction

Absence Of The Queen

Dave Barrett

Absence Of The Queen photo

He was at the sink washing dishes, when his old dog, Queenie, rushed the fence to bark at a gang of teenagers sauntering down  the middle of the street in front of the house with DQ ice cream cones in hand. They were a good-natured bunch and were bantering a bit with the dog. Typically, her barking would increase until he had to go to the back door and call her inside the house.  But, oddly enough, today Queenie got bored with the teenager’s self-importance, turned away from the fence and lazed her way back to the yard where her best human friend—his wife—used to kick up her heels on a wooden bench at the end of the day, smoke her cigarettes and pet the dog she had brought to their home from a shelter ten years ago. He watched as Queenie circled the bench several times and then, almost reluctantly, rested in her lioness-pose, raised her head, sniffed the cool spring air, and sighed.

 

image: Aaron Burch


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