and a wee story about a wee dog
It's finally getting cold and i suddenly remember what I don't like about winter. Cold is painful. My muscles object and retaliate with a lack of cooperation. The wind is making its music tonight, as it lowers it's shoulder and forces its way through the thick trees and brush. And the starless sky is black as pitch. Too cold even for the stars, perhaps. And here i sit with my trusted friend, tapping on its keys while pondering the great design and enjoying the warmth of my Betty Boop snuggi. (You KNOW you want one. It's ok to covet this once.)
It's funny how nights like these, quiet and dark, make me so contemplative. I find i can imagine quite easily whatever comes to mind. The latest news, of the new planet, the Earth's twin, has me all aflutter. One of the girls at work has decided that when the world ends in 2012, "God is going to take all the good people to the new earth and leave all the bad ones here to burn." Really. She said that today. Which of course led me to question how anyone can believe in an all knowing, all omnipotent God, who created his children imperfectly and then punishes them - for all eternity no less - for being imperfect.
Which of course, led me to ponder imperfection. Who decides what's perfect and what isn't anyway? Does a bit of chocolate tastes sweeter if it's perfectly formed? Are people less worthy because someone somewhere decided noses should be small and breasts should be big? Ask anyone who has ever rescued a mutt or runt of a litter if what someone else deemed as imperfect didn't make the most appreciated, loving and constant companion.
Which reminds me; another one of my co-workers breeds some kind of dog that I can't remember now. She sells them for $850.00 each. She told me that if I wanted one and I let her know in time, I could come over and bottle feed the pup to build the bonding experience. She assured me that I could look anywhere on the internet and I wouldn't find the same breed for less and all the money went to keeping her son in private school. When I explained that most of my pets find me she was confused. How do you explain that to a person?
Which got me to thinking; One of my rescues, many years ago, was a couple of St. Bernard's. They weren't fierce enough to protect themselves from the other more vicious and savage animals on the farm they lived on. And true enough, they were the most lovable and sweet natured dogs. What I found to be interesting though was that they were so lacking in will that they couldn't protect themselves, but let them think that I was in danger and they suddenly became so fierce they were frightening. I would have to walk them one at a time. The male would step in front of me and stand sideways at every street crossing and he would look every stranger up and down like a mother looking over her son's latest squeeze. People often say taking dogs out is a great way to meet people. Not with my dogs.
I can't think about dogs without remembering one of my clients. He was a man, who wanted to be a lesbian. He was always dressed like a woman, albeit one you might see in a vintage Sears catalog. Chiffon dresses, woven hats, floral purses with shoes to match. And he never went anywhere without his wee dog. He was in one day wanting suggestions for his hair. The dog wee'd in the corner of my station. I couldn't concentrate on his hair knowing about the wee on the floor so I had to stop so we could clean up first. He said, "It'll keep till we're done." I said, "I know it's just a little wee from a wee dog. It'll only take a wee moment to clean it up." He said, "Ill wait". I said, "No, I'll wait. YOU"LL clean". He never came back.
A car has just gone by and broken my reverie. I guess I'm done.