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.
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.