One morning, as I walked along, I heard a dog barking. It was an incessant, aggravating bark. When I approached the yard I saw him standing on his porch. He just stood there looking out at the road barking a constant uninflected cadence.
I turned to walk on and then I saw, sitting beyond the pickets that bordered the property, a blind dog. Eyes sewn shut, living in a world of smells, and sounds. It sensed my passing and turned its head to face me, following me as his companion’s barks echoed all around.
I was struck by the thought of the loneliness of living in darkness like the blind dog. I left wondering if the one dog barked to let the other know it was not alone.
Probably not. That barking dog was probably just an asshole.
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Laughed aloud. Wry humor is some of my favorite. đŸ™‚
Thanks, I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and didn’t publish it because I kept thinking it needed something (a thing I often think about my writing that turns out to not be true).
Today I just decided I had be quiet for too long.