PMILF Cont.

Turns out Nancy, or Mrs. Lincoln if you're nasty, died of milk disease, just like my first dog Gladys did.

We only had Gladys for about 18 months before she got milk disease and died. I remember coming home from school and seeing that she had died, and my brother and I started digging the hole on our side of the dirt road that cut between us and the field behind our house. It was the beginning of September, about 100 degrees, and the dirt was cracked and dried out from the heat so that it was like trying to dig through concrete. Choking on dust and burning from the sun I finally flung the shovel to the ground, fell to my knees and shook my fist at the sky “Hear me now, God!!! It is hell to be poor!!!” Actually, I think that was from A Day No Pigs Would Die, but I feel like something dramatic and emotional is more appropriate than the silence that was in the air the day we laid our only dog into the ground. Seems like any young boy’s dog deserves that much.