My grandfather’s dog

That’s my grandfather on the left. I never knew that he once had a dog. But I guess there are a lot of things I don’t know about him. He died 13 years ago on my first day in highschool, his weak heart made him do so. I remember wearing a blue jacket on this day and a grey t-shirt, I remember, it rained when I walked home and my mum stood in front of the house and said: Something happened. I immediately knew what she was talking about.

I wonder what he was thinking on the last picture. I wonder what name he gave the dog. I wonder if it was allowed to sleep in the kitchen. Maybe in the winter or on Sundays but maybe he had to sleep in the garage next to the tractor with which we used to drive back and forwards in the garden entry till either my father or my brother or I got bored and asked to stop. My grandmother watched us from the kitchen window erverytime we did so and Peter the old cat was lying in the sun.

That’s Peter:

Peter would have not liked the dog, that’s for sure.

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