After the tornado wrecked our home, we searched until our feet were one solid blister, but Chester was nowhere to be found. Heartbroken, we left to settle into our new home at the rec center. Climbing into the Jansen’s Explorer, Joey thought he heard you mewl from the now-skeletal old oak. We assumed it was nothing but wishful thinking, but he was sure it was your sharp yowl. We rolled down the window, and there, under the considerably gentler breeze, there you were. As it was getting late, and Jansen’s didn’t have enough room for us, we made them promise to help you down and take care of you. Still, it was almost impossible to leave you there, scraggly and vulnerable in that husk of an old oak. We’ll be back for you, old boy. I promise.Image

(This story  is part of a series of shorts, “10 Shorts on an Old Oak). Check out others on my Twitter: @cl0udburst.)


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