When I was a child most of my family lived within 20 minutes of each other. There was a time when I was visiting Aunt Joyce’s house and I heard a scary voice coming from behind her couch, but couldn’t see who it belonged to. She explained to me that it was Aunt Tilly, a mean old lady who hated children. I can't remember how long I thought this was true, but over time she would tell me, “no, you can’t go in there, Aunt Tilly is in there” or “you better be good, Aunt Tilly is watching” and things along those lines. Needless to say, I was terrified of this woman that I had never met, and never would meet because she didn’t exist. Aunt Joyce claims that she never knew I really believed in Aunt Tilly.. I don’t know if I believe her. Fast forward about 20 years, I fostered a mastiff mix who was just a unique dog with a creep stare that had a high prey drive. She needed a name and was gifted with ‘Tilly’. Aunt Joyce loved it and the name fit my girl so well. She didn’t last long as a foster dog before she became my forever furbaby. I’ll come back to Aunt Tilly.
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| R.I.P. Tilly |
