16th of May 1968
“What sort of dog is that?”
Jack turned to see a lanky teenager with long ginger hair, bright red jacket and purple flared trousers.
“It’s my dog!” Jack retorted.
“Well I figured that out all by myself, man, I’m just curious, that’s all.”
Jack ignored him and continued towards the park, where he and Poppy, came every evening after he’d finished school.
He enjoyed the alone time, and Poppy’s company, and never missed a day.
He stepped off the pavement. A car’s horn startled him and he fell backwards while the leash slipped through his hand.
Poppy squealed as the black car sent him flying through the air before landing lifeless in the middle of the road.
Shocked, Jack looked up to see the teenager crying, holding his hand gently.
“I’m so sorry” he sobbed.
16th of May 2014
Jack got out of his car and walked slowly towards the park. Beside the play area he took his place on a bench and waited as a wizened old man with wispy long ginger hair and a purple cane approached.
Without a word they advanced and stood before the statue of a rather handsome dog. The pedestal was engraved with one word -Poppy.
The old man reached slowly for Jack’s hand.
This is my entry to this weeks Sunday Photo Fiction.