This is Sally, my old dog. The nicest dog you’ll ever meet. Used to sleep in the laundry basket.
Sally’s gone to that big dog place in the sky where they wear Habs t-shirts.
And some evening wishes to myself:
May the remaining hairs on my head mate and have babies.
May the Canadiens win the Stanley Cup before Alex Galchenyuk becomes a grizzled veteran and I’m dead.
May they soon invent pillows cloned from the breasts of movie actresses.
May an old man force his rare Howie Morenz collection on me.
May my grandkids grow up to healthy and happy, and one of them buys a place on the French Riviera and I’m invited to live there.
May Charlize Theron be my live-in caregiver at my grandkid’s place on the French Riviera.
May Luci not care that Charlize Theron will be hanging around.
May the price of a litre of gas never equal my hourly wage.
May they finally invent a non-alcoholic beer that tastes exactly like beer and even without the alcohol it still makes people better dancers.