Friday, February 17, 2012


I knelt beside/ next to Diggity.  He made no effort/ work to get up.  His neck was a pulpy mass/ body of matter of blood, and his rib cage rose and fell unevenly/ raggedly.  Dad scooped/ dig up him into his arms and staggered/ walk falteringly up the beach.  Mum and Lucy were already in the car with the hatch/ Boot up and engine running.  The vet said Diggity had lost heaps/ pile of blood.  The outlook/ point of view wasn’t good.  When the phone rang/ encircle later that evening, nobody was in a hurry to answer/ reply.  But Diggity did survive.

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