Today I was feeling better. The fog was lifting, it wasnt quite as dark, my "hater" wasnt going full blast.
Dancing in the tiny kitchen after dinner, listening to Aretha Franklin.
Afterwards, we sat on the porch with some mulled cider, just talking about our day. All was well.
Along staggers this dog. It looked well fed and cared for, so it was obviously either a pet that had gotten loose or a dog someone had turned out into the street. It was wheezing and walking slowing, limping and obviously in pain.
Immediately it brought to mind the time my dog got out and we searched for him for 9 hours. Every time we would catch sight of him, call out to him, he would keep running - so terrified from all the noise, the strangers, that he couldnt stop himself. He finally stopped when he was hit by a car half a mile down the road. It was heartbreaking to see him unconcious and bleeding, and the next day with all his injuries...he suffered so much. He's keeping my feet warm as I write this. He's alright now, but anytime I see a stray dog it gives me a lump in my throat thinking that someone is as scared and upset as I was that night.
We tried to get the dog to come to us but it looked frightened and kept going. I watched it until it was gone from sight, and looked a while longer.
Color me overly emotional. Call me what you will. This ruined my good feeling. Its always something, isnt it? And yet I hate sympathy when I feel this way. It seems so damned patronizing.
Enough emotional crap for one day. Hrumph.