Saturday, March 13, 2010
A picture that tells it all
I don't quite look like myself in that shot, do I?
Well, I wasn't myself.
My dog, Mandy, had been killed that morning, hit by a car.
When my granddaughter, Amber, called to ask if she could come out with her new puppy and spend the night, I told her I wouldn't be very good company because I was crying about Mandy being killed.
Last weekend when Amber was here, I mentioned this; she said, "I can't believe I brought my puppy out here when your dog just died. That's horrible!"
Anyway, look at me in the picture: Face all red, hair in a tangle. Eyes teary. Fake smile. It's a portrait of grief.
Why on earth did I have Amber take my picture in such a state?
Perhaps I wanted a picture to use in a blog entry, something pleasant I could talk about. To take my mind off my loss.
The next day, Amber and her puppy accompanied us to Wayside Waifs: that's where we met Sadie, who insisted on coming home with us.
Amber's dog got a lot of attention that day from people adopting waifs.
If something should happen to Sadie, I have told Cliff, "Please just let me cry; I am not going straight to the pound to adopt a dog the next day. Give me some time. I might not even want another dog, but I won't know until I try living without one."
Not that I'm sorry I got Sadie, mind you. She never fails to pick me up when I'm down. She makes me forget about political disasters and "these tough economic times".