I started to think that maybe we shouldn’t get
a dog after all. What
if we got one that was mean or stubborn or destructive?
What if it made our lives more stressful, became a burden rather
than being a joy? One day, I was on my way to the thrift store Savers
and while I was stopped at a light, I noticed a dog in someone’s front
yard (loose and alone, on a very busy street, no people around).
It was dragging something, clutching it in its mouth and pulling
it around the little yard. My
first reaction was “Why is no one watching this dog?”, then
“What’s that in its mouth?” The
light changed and as I got closer, I realized that it was a dead
squirrel, and that there was another on the ground, a smear of red
across its back. I wondered
if this was an omen, that my worries about my future dog being Cujo were
not groundless. Eric would
think I was being superstitious, but I see things and make these sorts
of connections, these dire predictions. I tried to convince
myself that it was nothing more than a coincidence, not a personal
message from the Universe warning me against getting a dog.
But, further down the same road, a car was stopped in the middle
of the road with its hazard lights flashing.
A large black dog was running loose across the six lanes of
traffic. I added this to
the list of bad signs, along with a few more—Max and Felix, the two
dogs next door, barked non-stop, for hours on end, at nothing; and I had
checked the Great Dane rescue site the day before and two more of the
puppies had been adopted and they still hadn’t even called us about
our application.
© Salahub 2003 |
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