Memories of Bogart

I’m the only one among us siblings who remember our very first family dog. He was a gentle giant mutt named ‘Bogart.’ I used to ride Bogart into battle. My father made me this sword out of bamboo, then I made myself this hat made of paper, and I would ride Bogart to battle the monsters living under the vast mango tree within walking distance from our house.

Bogart lived in a dog-house built into the side of our hut. This was just below the window. Every morning I would wake up, climb on the chair beside the window and call on Bogart. “Bogart, it’s time for breakfast,” I would say. Bogart would just whine and continue sleeping. Then while drinking my milk I would spill some and my mother would get angry, said I acted like a dog and maybe I should just lick off the spilled milk, which I did.


About kara

I just like to read. Used to work in a library. My interests are horror and the gothic imagination, absurd and dark humor, urban legends, and other related unwholesome topics. I write short fiction sometimes. Older stuff:
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