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Curley

An old dog's eyes, milky white, are not so much going blind as they are being clouded by memory: every stick, every ball, the squirrel that got away - they're all there. Nothing is forgotten. The day she swam across the lake, or chewed your mouthguard into a million pieces. Remember when she was lost for two days, and came home soaking wet, muddy, and with a bird's feather -- blue and white - somehow lodged beneath her collar? She remembers. They all do. Every word, every walk, every time you rub their neck. The memories spill into their eyes, and eventually all they can see is the past.

-Daniel Wallace

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