One Day and the Next

The time has come, the Walrus said
To loose the hair upon my head
And let it flow
No more cuts, no more perms
My hair and I have come to terms
The virus made it so
*
Sonia Dog is in distress, and it's not just because of the high temperatures. It's the way Mommy keep tromping up and down the stairs with heavy bundles in her arms. It's the way the pictures and paintings have been ribbed off the wall. It's the way Daddy's favorite chair, the one Mommy wrapped with black masking tape, has somehow disappeared. It's the way the garage is crowded with brown boxes from wall to wall. It's the way Mommy keeps bursting into tears and doesn't go for strolls in the deep woods anymore. It's the way Daddy still hasn't come home.
     How does one communicate to a dog that "normal" will never be normal again?
*
 THE NEXT DAY--
 Gathering the remnants of her life from times past, Fiorella has rediscovered herself. She's not just a whining widow or a technological dummy. She's a magnificently creative creature who's worked for for magazines and newspapers, written several books and at least a hundred poems, painted at least a hundred wondrous pictures, composed a fair number of Christmas carols, studied eight languages, and collected a host of wonderful friends along the way.
     Full steam ahead, Fiorella. The best is yet to come!