Angie’s dad walked out of their house and smiled, seeing his daughter sitting on the porch step, petting a small brown dog. “What’cha got there hon?” The five year old turned to look up at her father, and he was shocked out how sad she seemed. “Yesterdays dog” she stated matter-of-factly. “Umm, ok, hon” he stammered, trying to figure out what his daughter meant by “yesterdays dog” and why she seemed so sad. The little stray was obviously happy with the attention he was receiving from the sandy haired little girl. He sat down on the step next to his daughter and ran his hand over the coat of the little stray. Something wasn't quite right, the feel of the dog was “off” , like when you grab something that looks heavy, but isn't, or when you lift a feather that has more weight to it than it should. It left him feeling slightly disoriented. “Angie..” he started...”why do you call him Yesterdays dog?”. “I wanted to play with him yesterday, daddy, but he ran away”. Angie had a pouty look about her, like she sometimes gets when her father or mother asked her to clean her room, or eat all her vegetables “he doesn't belong here daddy, he was a’posed to be here yesterday, but he got skeered and ran away and now he’s here today and he don't belong here today!” she burst out without taking a breath. The little girls father furrowed his brows in thought, trying to figure out just what his little girl meant, and decided that sometimes kids say weird things. “OK hon, well, he’s here now,today, so I guess tomorrow he’ll be yesterdays dog too” It was Angie’s turn to try and process information that she couldn't quite wrap her head around, and she scrunched up her face a bit and said “I dunno daddy, I guess so...”. “I got to go into the office for a few hours hon, I’ll see you this afternoon” he kissed his daughter on the forehead and walked to his car, looking back at his little girl and the happy little dog still in her lap. Two blocks from his house he saw a little brown dog,laying dead on the side of the road. A feeling of disorientation came over him, as if he had picked up a balloon made of lead. He almost stopped, but kept driving. It couldn't be yesterdays dog, he was sitting happily in his daughters lap. Now. Today
