The Day That Sluggo Died


I sat down to work on the computer and was greeted with the head of Sluggo.  Too occupied with beef sales, I didn’t notice the decapitated stuffy.  Reaching over to grab another paper to process, I met with his blue #4 eyes and red thread smirk.  Ah, poor Sluggo.

My sister, Carol, made this doll when I was a pup.  We’ll call it thirty years ago, but it feels like ten.  I’ve carried Sluggo and his faithful friend, Renee around for awhile now.  I think we called him Sluggo after a then popular Mr. Bill serious.  His end was met in the jaws of a golden puppy.  His body is a favorite chew toy in the yard.  I feel bad that he died this way, but it was beyond my control.  Too many kids, too many puppies and you are bound to collect some casualties.  Renee, sadly, was not graced with such a quick end.

The position he was rested on my desk reminded me of the famous head in Paris.  Just need to add the hair.


Head intact, I might rest him next to Book of Calm and my little Trolli burger.  R.I.P.  Sluggo.

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