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The Rose

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You know how your mom and grand-mom tell you stories?  My human mom does the same thing.  I'm a good listener, you know. 

We have a rose bush on the top of the bank that we can see every time we go in or out the front door.  I like to smell flowers.  One day when we walked by the bush and I stopped to smell an especially bright rose my human mom told me the story of that rose.

When my humans bought this place there was a beautiful rose bush at the end of the house.  The lady who lived here with her children and husband had bad cancer.  I'm not sure what cancer is exactly, except that people get sick and die from it and dogs can get it too.  The lady's friend had given her the beautiful rose bush when she was diagnosed and she planted the bush at the end of the house where it flourished. 

She asked my human mom if she could take the rose bush.  Of course my human mom said yes.

The next spring came and my humans were making changes in the house which included adding a garage.  My human mom moved some flowers at the end of the house and discovered a tiny sprout where the rose bush had been.  They carefully dug up the sprout and planted it where I stood sniffing the bright red flower. 

Today the rose bush is growing and flourishing and my humans get to enjoy it everyday when they look outside. 

Now it is getting cold and we are getting frosts, but if you look close you will see the tiny bud above the top rose.  Such a determined little bush. 

Kinda like a Chessie.

 

Current Mood:
contemplative contemplative
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