Lots of people think of their pets as their children. I’ve always found that a little odd, never more so than I do now, having an actual child. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand how important a pet can be. I would be devastated if anything to Scout or Archie. The one time I thought Archie ran off, I was in quite a state, and that’s to say nothing of the time, years ago, nearly a decade now, that my dog Mouser died. The emotions we feel for these creatures are real. 

We went into Burlington today for work and to visit. We had to leave the dogs behind, from about noon til’ six. We forgot to leave lights on because we left when it was still light out. The whole time we were away I worried about them. I knew they’d be fine, and the worst that would happen might be the destruction of some toy or Archie might grab a few diapers from the bin and eat them vindictively on my pillow (this has happened). 

Concern for the catastrophic isn’t all there is, just like concern for the purest form of love and connection likewise, is just the middle bit of a spectrum. I felt bad that the dogs weren’t having much fun today, and I feel bad that they haven’t gotten proper walks because it’s been very cold and also my knee is busted. 

They don’t understand, and there’s no talking to them. 

I’m sure they’ll be grateful once we do finally go on a proper walk. Maybe tomorrow, but probably not. 

Wednesday, that’s it.