I believe that animals do talk in their own way. That’s been my philosophy for as long as I can remember. Last night I watched Nova on my local PBS station that dealt with that very topic, “Can Dogs Talk?”
Tag Archives: family
Transport No. 24
Presently I am walking with my parents to the train depot. There are a large number of us and were told we had to move from the ghetto to make room for others. We were going to a better place, so we were told.
Happy Birthday
It’s Tommy, Master Jerry’s cat. He’s been acting strangely this past couple days telling me it’s my birthday. I’m not sure what that is but he gave me a toy mouse with this wonderful smelling substance that makes me feel so good.
It’s That Time of Year Again
Yes, tis the season for unending Christmas carols played over and over again. At first I don’t mind. I’m even heard singing along with a couple of songs. But, by the end of December I am sick of endless versions of “White Christmas,” “I’ll be Home for Christmas,” “Jingle Bells,” and “Rudolph the Red nosed Rein Deer.”
I’M BROKEN
Back in my younger days when I was a functionally dysfunctional alcoholic, going to my outpatient treatment to avoid jail time at the court’s discretion, our counselor always asked us how we were.
The Joy of Celebrating My Birthday
This is my personal holiday, a moment for introspection, celebration, and connection. Every year, as my birthday approaches, I find myself swept up in the gentle tide of anticipation
Campout Day 2
“This is why I like this car!” I told Tamera and Sonya while I passed three John Deere tractors and a pilot vehicle on the Pasco-Kahlotus Road heading toward Levy Park. In no time had I seen my opportunity on the stretch of two-lane paved road cleared and hit the afterburners and was pushing over eighty miles per hour.
The Campout
My youngest sister and I planned this months ago after I bought my new car. She couldn’t or didn’t have the time for me to go all the way to Bend, Oregon where she lives, so compromised on Charbonneau Park, not too far from the Tri-Cities where we grew up.
Eight Lives Short
One evening Ms. Coyote told her worthless husband, Wile E Coyote, “I’m hungry!” She was pregnant with her tenth litter, due any day now.
“Yes dear, rabbit, quail, or…” He purposefully left it hanging for her to decide.
“Cat, a nice, domesticated cat,” she replied, her opened jaw salivating with craving. “Your babies wants a cat to feed on. They are so tasty.”
Remembering an Old Friend
Now it’s going on what sixteen years? Anyway, his name was Steve McCollough, and he was my roommate for a number of years back in the early 90s. I lived at his house that was next door to my parents’ place in West Richland. Coincidence?
Jerry Schellhammer 