Where the Red Fern Grows

by Wilson Rawls

My whole life was wrapped up in my dogs. Everywhere I went they went along.

I could see he could never win a beauty contest. His face and ears were a mass of old scars, caused from the many fights with tough old coons and bobcats. I held his head in my hands and felt sorry for him, but loved him that much more.

“I know this seems terrible and I know how it hurts, but at one time or another, everyone suffers. Even the Good Lord suffered while He was here on earth.”

I also buried a part of my life along with my dog.