Pet Prose: Harper

Author photo.

“The summer between her second and third grade years, she decided she’d rather be a tree. Every day she’d take a bucket of water to the woods behind the house, pour the water on the ground, and carefully place her bare feet into the muddy soil. She’d stand still for what felt like the entire afternoon, and when she could no longer endure standing still, would examine her feet for any sign of roots.

Disappointed after a couple of weeks, she was struck by a conversation between her uncle and aunt when they talked about growing roses and what they called ‘grafting.’ She stopped taking water to the woods. Instead, she took books from her uncle and aunt’s library to read while she pressed her back, or an arm, or her feet, against a tree trunk. The grafting process never worked and she remained fully human, but she did read a lot of good books that summer.”

I take photos. I write. My volunteer job is taking photos of rescued dogs and cats transported by the rescue group whose records I manage. Since working and volunteering don’t leave me a lot of time to write, I’m spending 2017 borrowing from what these dogs and cats are writing. They said it’s okay.

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