Happy’s life’s a drag

THERE was a time when Happy was not so broken.

Back then he would pounce and prance with agile grace and with seemingly inexhaustible energy throughout the entire day as he greeted visitors or chased birds and cats.

Back then, Happy would watch with canine fascination the constant flow of traffic, both man and machine, by the front porch, his eyes shiny, tail and tongue wagging in a kind of rhythmic response to that unceasing passing parade of life outside.

 

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