the fat-faced dog

There was a fat-faced dog on my paper route. He sat on the porch when it was nice out. When he saw me coming, he'd get up and start to come down the stairs to chase me. He'd get down about three steps before the rope he was tied to would pull him back up. He'd look at me and I would peddle away on my stupid little bike. Once in a while I'd taunt that fat-faced dog, by shouting stuff like "Hey fat-faced dog, your face is fat", but for the most part I wanted to get done delivering papers so I could go home and make a glass of chocolate milk and watch cartoons.

I kept that paper route for a few years. When I got older, I eventually decided to work in a grocery store, so I gave up the paper route. At that grocery store, I was forced to deal with people on a regular basis. Can you put the meat in separate bags? Can you carry that to my car? Other people just demanded things. Paper and plastic. Hurry up, I have to go home. Whenever I tried to get away for a minute, someone would call me back. There is always work to be done at a grocery store.

Every once in a while I would walk around my old neighborhood after a day at the grocery store. I would pass the fat-faced dog's house. When it was nice out, he'd be there on the porch. Even though he was older and his face was even fatter, he'd run down the stairs to try and get me. And I would occassionally walk over to pet him on his fat head. He was a good dog.