Outliving Your Pets

By Henry S. Kivett

Looking for a collection of short fiction that'll stay with you for days after you've read it? You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll hug your cat, kiss your dog full on the lips, and you'll question every relationship you ever had. Staggering around, blinded by your tears, you'll ponder the very meaning of love itself. You might even call your mom.

At just over 6,000 words, "Outliving Your Pets" is a quick but potent journey through love, lust, loss, and memory. Nourish your inner masochist and cuddle your inner puppy. Buy now. Read immediately, preferably alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312465169

Book preview

Outliving Your Pets

Outliving Your Pets

Four Stories

By

Henry S. Kivett

Copyright © 2014, Henry S. Kivett

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

All characters and places in this book are fictitious.

ISBN 978-1-312-46516-9

Dedication

In memory of many

Making Bread

A version of this story was originally published by Pindeldyboz, Winter 2007

My wife, the cat, and I are all sifting through the pile. Lori and I have stacks of photos in hand. Guinea, the cat, dog-ears my senior yearbook with a smelly kitty fang.

Lori holds up a pic. In the photo, I’m standing beside a blonde girl in a field of flowers.

What is this? She lifts her eyebrows.

Oh, that, I say. Me and Drew. Yeah, that was the summer I dated Drew Barrymore.

Nuh uh! Lori leans back onto her heels and puts the pic an inch from her face.

Yeah, I say. Most of the summer and maybe into September. I think. That was taken in San Diego. Or San Bernardino. San something.

Lori lowers the photo and sickly Guinea staggers across her lap, purring and snapping at the picture. She loves chewing on photos. Must have a celluloid deficiency in her diet. A string of brown drool slips past Guinea’s gums and drapes itself across Lori's fingers.

Really? Lori wipes her hand and turns the photo over, looking on the back for notes or a date. You told me you only met her once.

Well, you only meet anybody once.

She tilts her head and lowers her