I love my dog. It’s the cutest thing that’s ever loved me. It’s the only thing that has ever loved me. I wonder if my parents loved me. The last time I remember seeing them was when I was a baby. Then again, I don’t remember what I until I was eighteen and moved here to Cleveland. I’ve been here since the forties, when Roosevelt was president. I was very lonely in the orphanage so I got a dog.
Yesterday, I was talking to this girl Katie, or was it Marissa; anyway she said that she was busy that afternoon. I expected that she just didn’t want to talk to me. That’s how it’s been for a while. No one wants to talk to me no matter what. My life is solitary, well, except for my dog.
So, I was walking down the street walking my dog Casey, and Casey just sprinted off. I was dragged to an oasis in the desert, a garden. She was licking and slobbering over a child that walked her with me daily. I was amazed. I saw half the neighborhood here planting their gardens and seldom talking. But we had to leave. We couldn’t stay. I dragged Casey home, gave her food and went to sleep. The next morning I went to the garden and talked to the little kids working with their parents. Many of the parents were delighted to have the children away for a few minutes so their work could be done. But the next day I came I asked to entertain the kids, but the parents seemed cross. They claimed that since the children weren’t there the crops were not watered and dried out. I could not believe it. A father of one of the girls told me that I was flat out annoying and that he didn’t see how anyone could love me. I was shunned away. I left that day from the garden and went to the florist down the street to buy flowerpots. I gave one to a few families in my building for the children to decorate. I found many of them in the garbage can the next day. I was ready to kill myself. I got a knife held it up directed to my neck and right before my act little Clara came in and asked what I was doing. For the first time I did not know what to say. I simply said I was getting a knife to cut an apple. I put the knife down and talked to her for a minute. She explained how I was missed my some of the community. I went outside with her to the garden. The garden was almost overflowing with growth. I kept my large mouth shut. I was afraid to talk to anyone, but people were talking to me. I finally felt loved. I tried to help, but I couldn’t bend down due to my age. I gave advice about how to help my neighbor’s plants grow better. One of my neighbors wanted to grow marijuana but instead he grew pumpkins. I found my time in the garden pleasant and comforting. I found myself talking less and less. A few months ago I walking past the garden and this woman was just rolling in everyone’s hard work. When she arose, I realized that there was only dirt under her. All the crops and flowers were gone! It was the first day of school for the kids so I assumed they got the planting out of the way. What was I talking about again?