[[If I get good reviews on this excerpt, I'll download the next chapter and see how it goes from there.]]


Every now and again, the wind will blow, deep into the valleys of Ireland. I'll close my eyes, tilt my head back, and imagine she's still here, right by my side, as it should be. I never want to wake from this feeling, I never want to open my eyes. I just want to remain in this dream forever.


It's July again. It seems like it's only been a week since my wife's passing. I can still remember the glazed look in her eyes as she let go of her life that night. It kills me to think about it, but at least things are getting somewhat easier. My daughter was recently accepted into DCU, and my son has relocated into the states with a brand new job. I miss them terribly, but it's time to move on I suppose.


Hm. Moving on. Why, that brings me to something that happened just the other day! You see, I was walking around in downtown Bray when I came across a small, run-down, pet shop. The lights were dimly lit and dust flew everywhere as I pushed open the door. A bell hanging above me gave out what was probably it's last effort of jingle.


"Hello? Is anyone here?" I called out. No one responded, so I entered a bit further. I gave a quick glance around, and I saw nothing but rows of empty cages on the wall. Suddenly, I heard a small whimper, a cry for help. I looked at the last cage sitting on the ground and spotted a ball of fluff from within. It wasn't moving, just lying there, still as it could be.


I came a bit closer, only to realize it was a small innocent lab, the look of loneliness in its eyes. I saw how mistreated, how hungry it was. This made me furious, to know someone could abandon such a gentle creature. In anger, I broke open the cage door and retrieved the pup. It cried out in pain. I noticed splotches of blood all over it's fur. "Don't worry. I'm going to take care of you now."


I immediately ran out of the building, sheilding the puppy with my coat, and returned home. As soon as I walked in, I rushed to a cabinet and placed two kitchen bowels on the floor. One with some chicken scraps from lunch, the other with fresh cold water. It struggled immensely as it tried to walk, so I picked it up and placed it carefully in front of the food. I wanted to call out to it, to tell it everything was going to be all right, but it had no name.


The dog happened to be a female, so, the only reasonable name I could give it, was Lilianne. Ah, Lilianne. She was still the only thing I could think about, given I had a hurt animal on my hands, and a future I couldn't even begin to fathom. How I'd ever survive the next 50 or so years, I had no idea, but all I did know is that I was in this position for a reason, and I might as well make the best of it.

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