Then take a moment to let someone else know you care:
Then take a moment to let someone else know you care:
Another gentle creative nudge from Duirwaigh Studios to help you remember your dreams:
The Music on “My Wish for You” by Annbjørg Lien.
OK, I’m ducking here as all the dog lovers of the world throw rotten fruit and veggies at me. But bear with me. I began my life as a dog-lover. There are pictures of me as an infant cuddled up with our cocker spaniel, Ginger. When I was in grade school, I was a dog magnet. Every stray in the world followed me home. It might have helped that I usually held out a bit of bologna from the sandwiches I hated at lunchtime. But invariably day after day, I’d have dogs literally eating out of my hand.
I petted mangy, flea-infested beasts with the same affection I showed my baby brother (Yes, I adored him. Can’t say the same for my sister, however, although we did become friends after we grew up.) I sneaked food out to them if I could manage to keep them hidden. But my mother was the dog police. You’d think having had a dog, she’d be sympathetic to my obsession. But we’d given our dog away when we moved out of the country. By the time we returned to the U.S., she’d turned anti-dog. So I knew better than to bring them into the house. I hid them behind the shed which had a shaded overhang.
Then I made surreptitious trips to the refrigerator, and all the loose dogs in the neighborhood feasted on pot roast and chicken. Some even broke free of their chains to visit me. I’d fed a stray and get attached. I’d lay beside them with my arms around them as they slept. I groomed them with hairbrushes I sneaked from the house. I borrowed china bowls from the holiday dishes (figuring they’d be missed least) for water. I took good care of the dogs. And they’d repay me by licking my face, greeting me when I returned home from school, howling at night when I went in to bed. Some even followed me to school and lay panting in the schoolyard until I emerged at the end of the day.
But here’s the sad part. They always broke my heart. After a few days (or sometimes weeks if I was lucky), the dog disappeared. I’d come home from school, and my best friend would have taken off for parts unknown. I sobbed into my pillow at night and moped around the house. I thought they didn’t love me any more. I had no idea what I’d done wrong. Why I couldn’t manage to keep a pet. It was years before I discovered the truth.
Every dog I’d brought home ended up at the pound. Then the same neighbor girl who gave me that information also explained that the pound killed the dogs and chopped them up for hamburger meat.* I was devastated. I thought I’d been helping strays. Instead I’d been turning them into meat. I refused to eat hamburgers after that. And it was months before I spoke to my mother after I discovered she was the one who’d dragged of all my pets to the pound.
So now I can’t be around a dog without feeling sad. I don’t want to pet one or let it worm its furry way into my heart. After all, you never know when a dogcatcher might be just around the corner.
* It was many years before I discovered this neighbor girl had a penchant for exaggeration.
In keeping with my theme of nonforgiveness (see previous post), I thought I’d think of people in my life I forgave, but probably shouldn’t have. If I’d known about this research earlier in life, just think how many people I could have helped.
I’ll start with my high school nemesis who stole my almost-boyfriend. OK, so he and I had sort of gone on one date together. Or rather we tried to. Friends who know how directionally challenged I am will not be surprised to hear that instead of heading north on the highway to our destination, I accidentally turned south, and never realized my mistake until we crossed the state line. He had let me choose our destination (big mistake!), so he had no idea what I had in mind. So that semi-date plus one phone call the week before to let me know he’d flunked his driver’s test was the extent of our relationship to that point. Still I had high hopes.
The holidays were approaching, and I felt sure I’d have a date with him for the next big to-do. Because he didn’t have his license, I’d figure we’d meet there. So I dressed to kill and spent half an hour trying to discourage friends from taking the seat I was saving for HIM.
Meet there we did. And he was as romantic as I dreamed he’d be, except the person he was cuddling was not me. Yep, she was holding his hand, wrapping her arm around him, while I pretended I hadn’t been saving that seat for anyone special.
After crying for hours that night, I resolved to be nice to both of them. And I was. I never said a word to either of them about my broken heart (she’d known I had a crush on him), and I stayed friends with them. Too bad I didn’t know about this grudge-holding research. I might have come up with some harsh consequences that would have made them both think twice about what they’d done. As it turned out, a few months later she broke my best friend’s heart when she stole her steady boyfriend. And then six months later cheated on him with my neighbor’s fiance. Who knows how much heartache I could have saved others by being unforgiving.
So what auld acquaintances in your life do you wish you could forget?