When I was a boy, we had a Collie named Champ. My parents were out of town when Champ was hit by a car and killed. I can still remember my tears as the lady who was staying with me helped bury our dog in the far corner of the backyard. At the time (I was about twelve) I didn’t understand how something like that could have happened.
Writers
This carefully maintained dock holds a growing collection of the written word. Here, you’ll find thought provoking articles, unique stories, private letters, personal notes, deep musings, and occasionally, even poetry. Much of the content here has never been shared publicly. For whatever reason, some pieces were tucked away by the writer for years. Now, it’s all available for you.