From this vantage point, she could get a very clear look at what was happening in the adjoining yard.
Pulling back the blinds, she could see Shoo-Fly between the two trees...alone.
The two that had been so close in life now felt the physical separation of death.
She had seen her husband come from the front of the house and enter the yard through the open gate,
carrying a large black bag used for the disposal of leaves.
She had watched as he knelt down and picked up the beloved little brown body from the ground.
She could see his white cotton tail.
My friend! Her heart had cried out. My precious friend!
Raising Shoo from the ground, her husband had lowered him into the bag back feet first.
For the first time that day she had caught sight of the face of her forever friend.
Gasping, she had held the window pane for needed support.
Not much remained of the face she had known and loved,
for the attack had come from the front.
Her mind had spun as she thought of the beautiful, trusting, gentle eyes that had looked at her with such eager anticipation as she sat on the step handing him his treats and cut up pieces of apple.
She thought of the soft nose that so often would brush her hand before she could retrieve it from the food bowl.
But most of all, she thought of the way he had looked at her as she stood at the back door with her daughter's friend, only three short nights ago.
This memory, the last time she had seen her friend alive, would burn a quiet flame in her heart for the rest of her days.
The old rocking chair creaked as the elderly lady attempted to shift her weight.
No one would understand why she had stood at the window that day...
but she knew and understood.
Shoo-Fly had been beautiful to her in life, and still beautiful to her in death,
and she had wanted to see him one last time.
She had stood at the window and watched until her husband had left the neighbor's yard,
carrying the leaf bag which held the remains of her beloved friend.
She heard the garage door open...
and then close.
Now she was alone.
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