Tuesday morning is trash day here at the beach. I rolled the can out to the curb after walking the dog. I looked over both shoulders , just to make sure no one heard that little voice from inside the trash can proclaiming " I Feel great! "
You'd think 12 hours in a black plastic coffin on wheels would have knocked the spunk out of the little guy. Not so.
It's not all my fault. the previous afternoon, my wife had decided we needed to simplify our lives. We were empty nesters now. we were grandparents now , and had been for some time.
The youngest of the Kids was in grade school. Even when they came over, they never paid any attention to their old friend. He just laid there in his over sized Rubbermaid container. Never a peep , unless someone bumped him while searching for a pair of boots tucked way back in the closet. " I feel great."
It was time for him and the rest of the junk to go. He begged for mercy , in his own pecular way, as I carried him out of the house. I felt no regrets, as I pulled the lid off the container , and dumped the contents , into the trash coffin on wheels. Well no regrets about the childrens books with missing pages, the broken crayons, or the mis-matched blocks. But talking Elmo would not let me off so easy. "I feel great", as a broken Hot Wheel hit him in the gut.
As we walked back to the house , the dog looked up at me, with less trust than usual. Could she be wondering , " Am I so easily disposable, too?"

I may need a vacation.