by Kim Conklin
One sunny morning, a big-bellied ball of yellow fur surveyed a yard full of prospective adopters and ran straight to one.
She'd been chosen.
The breeder called the craziest pup in the litter Climbing Ivy. He tried to pull a switch with two other pups, but she knew. The pup was ADD riddled with far too much energy; she understood. She'd loved many dogs, but this one loved her.
The dog loved to run, never happier than free-flying down a laneway, and swim, paddling with so much heart that her chest lifted above the water.
A second's inattention during training, and the pup shot off. The leash snapped. So did the ring finger on her left hand. Her wedding band had to be cut apart.
They were inseparable. The dog waited all day until the computer went off, then her day began. In a dark, miserable life, the dog was her bright spot, the only love she knew.
When she had to leave, she had nowhere to go; at least the dog would be cared for where she was. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window. The dog stood staring at her, whimpering and confused.
Walking away was her last act of love.
Remembering, her left hand throbbed. It had never healed properly, leaving drawn, tight tendons clinging together. The palm was a mountain range, the life and heart lines unreadable, a lasting imprint of the truest heart she had ever known, still aching.
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For the 52/250 prompt, The Palm of Your Hand. Inspired by my unconventional belief that the body knows things the mind can't comprehend.
Possibly the last of a series.
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*thunk
there went my heart...my dog is curled up right next to me, right now and oh man, this broke my heart to read
loving the stories from the palm of your hand prompt...bet your series is great, Kim *
Thanks so much, Kathy! I agree, the palm of your hand prompt was incredibly rich. So many great stories...
I've not used this expression before, Kim, because it seems unmanly, but the title and appeal of your story make it impossible to resist: I heart this! *
Frank, thanks so much for taking a walk on the heart side! Your courage is commendable. :)
I just love the classic theme about love: that active and real love leaves scars. It's why Velveteen Rabbit is one of my favorite books ever. This is so great, Kim. I'm glad you shared it here. It has a world of heart in it. -- * Q
Very centered moment, Kim:
"The dog stood staring at her, whimpering and confused.
Walking away was her last act of love."
Great piece. A good hit. And a solid fit for the theme at 52|250.
Thanks very much, Quenby and Sam! Glad it connected with you.
*"a lasting imprint of the truest heart she had ever known, still aching"
Thanks, Mata. Glad you liked it. :)
Tender
*
Heartbreaking and lovely work, Kim. One aches reading it. And I agree, fully, with your Author's Note: the body does indeed know things the mind refuses to acknowledge.
Thanks so much, Cherise. I'm glad it touched you.
The life cycle of love, so well put. I love this line: "paddling with so much heart that her chest lifted above the water."
Thanks, Susan! I'm glad that line connected with you.
Very effective writing, pace, and story development: sincerely heartfelt.
'She'd loved many dogs, but this one loved her.'
Thanks, J.! I'm happy you liked the writing!
Wrenching. Wonderfully done. *
Thanks, Boudreau!
Heartbreaking.
Thanks for the comment, Jack!
I missed this somehow, the first time 'round. So glad that I found it. Not a sentimental type, but this is not sentiment. It's truth and, subsequently, inevitably, beauty.
Thanks very much, James. I'm very glad you liked it.
My co-workers are suspicious of my right now, as I just turned away from my desk red-eyed and sniffling. Excellent, Kim. Thank you.
Gee, thank you, Erin!