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mabel, baby

i named myself after old retired greyhound i haven't seen in years. curled up beneath my feet as you slept on the couch and i sat next to you reading, afternoon sunbeams casting a warm orange glow across the pictures of you on the wall. your mother, humming to herself softly, gently whistling to call ol' mabel over. 

sweet old mabel, baby. ran the track just on the other side of town until wiry grey hairs began popping up around her big cow eyes.

thought mabel sounded too old so i kept ivy- spunky little teenager. 

mabel, ears flat against her skull as she peered out the back window, still as limber and strong as the day they sent her to that little house in wisconsin. and she died the way she lived- running full speed like a bat out of hell until her little old heart gave out.

five years this may, sweet mabel, baby.

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