mooch

He lived in a ramshackle place near the train tracks, so close, in fact, that the house bounced when the 10:22, 16:45 and 20:25 rushed by. He’d lived there for three years, now, though never planned to stay. He began by squatting, then when no one seemed to care, he started trying to fix up the place, though nothing was easy, and before long, he not only felt invested, but responsible for the place, it beginning to feel like a real home. The final straw was the night Moochie arrived. Mooch was a hound dog mix, with blue spots, a black tongue and a notch that slotted one ear. He could never be sure, but it seemed as though Mooch’d been through a lot, too, so he welcomed him and treated him like family. At night, Mooch slept at the foot of the bed and went with the bounce when the train passed. Him and Mooch lived there, like that, in that place they’d adopted, for 13 years and when he died, Mooch stayed for a bit, long enough, by instinct, it was thought, then pushed his way out through the back door and moved on. He would’ve wanted it that way.