Voyages of the Vicky Mary. Dr. Pushkin.

[oneighty]

Dr. Puskin is our high strung through bred German Shepherd. Dr. Pushkin died this night. Here is why.

Coming back to the dock late one dark cold evening the Vicky Mary is eased up to the dock where she will stay the night. CL, the Captain drops his glasses case over the side. The glasses case floats, we struggle to save his glasses. After ten minutes or so of trying we are successful and CL has his glasses.

I get into my truck, drive the six miles south on route seventeen to our home. At home I find the family, Tricia, George and Baby Pat all crying.
"Dr. Pushkin is dead" Tricia tells me. "He bolted out the door a few minutes before you got here, chased a truck and was killed." I walk out on route seventeen find our Dr. Pushkin, pick him up, carry him home. He is a heavy dog,his body is still warm, blood drips from his mouth the journey is difficult, my vision blurred. If only I had come home just a few minutes sooner. Damned glasses

With the rising sun I dig a deep hole for Dr. Pushkin. I have a big glass of Vodka and tomato juice. After burying our dog I sit, sip my Vodka Bloody Mary, and I curse the Vicky Mary, I curse CL and his damned glasses, I curse the ocean, the clams, the seafood business. Cursing all done and Vodka all gone I get ready for another voyage on the Vicky Mary.

180

[Droopy]

1. Sad story

Judging from these stories it seems like you've had to go through some really hard times in life.