Dogs

Today was a shitty day for so many reasons I can't detail them all. But mostly, I'm just getting really, really tired of being broke and relying so completely on Rob. I've applied for every job that I see that I think I could actually do but so far no luck. I even signed up for a study I don't want to do. It's depressing.

Anyhow, I thought that going to the community garden would make me feel better because it usually does, if only a little. Today I was disturbed to see that my garden seems to be strangling itself to death. The "bush" beans have turned out to have serious climbing ambitions and are flopping all over the place, strangling the flowers and blocking out all of the light from that end of the garden. The tomato plants have all fallen down, taking their laughably tiny "cages" along with them.

As I stood looking sadly at the green chaos, I heard a woman barking orders to her dog: Come here! I said COME HERE!! Leave it! I said LEAVE IT!! Get over here! Sit down! I said SIT DOWN!!! I thought, well, maybe she has one of those hyper dogs who need constant direction to tire them out... but then I noticed that her dog was actually obeying her every irate command and that he didn't seem particularly hyper or badly behaved. This didn't stop her from kicking him when he didn't sit down quickly enough; I heard the impact of her boot; the dog yelped piteously. Then she stood over him, swearing at him as he cowered. I said, "Jesus lady, I hope you don't have kids." but she was already on her way home, dragging the dog behind her. I guess that was his ten minutes of exercise for the day.

I was done looking at the garden. I had about a hundred mosquito bites already. It was too hot for weeding and I'd picked every sizable bean I laid eyes on. I picked some nasturtiums and purple basil to make confetti butter, cut some chard leaves and climbed on my bicycle. On my way out, I couldn't help noticing another depressing thing - the garden is full of produce that isn't being picked. There are overgrown peas and beans covering the plants. I was tempted to pick some peas but I didn't; it would have felt wrong. Somehow even more wrong than leaving them there to rot on the vines.

Another thing eating me is that my dogs are getting so old. I've lived with them for so long, in such a congenial way, that I don't know what I'll do without them. They are there in the morning, (and always happy in the morning; as though they are just glad to be starting another day...) they keep me company throughout the day and they are there at night, when they seem always glad to go to bed. They used to be so springy and resilient; now they are creaky and clunky. They have lumps and bumps. They smell worse. But somehow they are sweeter than they were as young dogs. They seem more affectionate, more trusting, more gentle and loving; happier.

I wonder if that dog I saw today will get to be an old dog. If he will get sweeter as he ages, or if he will be dropped off at the pound with a broken spirit and a bad rap sheet. I wonder sometimes if dogs ever regret having hooked up with us humans in the first place.