Stones on the Loose

Our little doggie Toby went under the knife today to remove stones from his bladder. The poor little duck is home now and resting pretty well. He has a couple of weeks of recovery ahead of him. Tonight, his “brother”, our kitty Luigi who has lost a leg to cancer, jumped up on the couch looking for some serious cuddling. He was not happy to see that someone else was getting all the attention. He kept reaching out and sinking his claws into my arm. So I had to spring a hand free and was kept busy petting two of our recovering pets at the same time.

It’s a living.

Maybe it wasn’t nice but we took pictures of Toby’s stones. The biggest one was the size of a walnut and it looked vaguely familiar. So we named it Keith Richards.

©2019 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.