I tethered my friend’s cherished brown-and-white mutt Chessie, aka first child, to a metal chair outside my favorite coffee shop and ran in for a take-out latte. Glancing out the door while waiting, I saw Chessie, chair bouncing behind, running up 18th Street, in the correct lane, yes, but it was rush hour. I could see her small, dead body as I ran screaming, “Chesssieeeee!!!” out the door. A kind man up the street stepped off the sidewalk and neatly pulled chair and still-living dog onto the curb. Saved from the end of a friendship, I hugged the stranger.
Sherri Alms is a writer living in Pennsylvania and dreaming of New Mexico. She writes for money and for love.