In Times of Sorrow



I have one of those minds which seems to remember everything but where I put my keys or reading glasses. I can chimp back through visual images and recall exactly who I was with and what the joke was just before or after the shot was taken. Or remember word for word the song playing on the car stereo as I pulled over to capture that particular column of clouds.

It's a gift or a curse. This morning driving south to feed two kitties there was a dead dog beside the highway. And images of the family dogs through the years clicked through my brain like a slide show. Then I identified this particular dog. I called her Ghost. A neighbor owned her and mistreated her. And another neighbor and I would feed her because she often looked close to starving. Not that he wouldn't or didn't feed her but that she was afraid to go near enough to him to be fed.

One of the first things I did for Ghost was remove a choke chain from around her neck. It was way too tight and too small and her fur was all tangled in it. I hated the person who had put it on her. It even had a couple feet of chain attached to it. She had broken that to get free. The minute it was off she ran and I was never able to get that close to her again. I tried everything to get her into my yard but she was obviously afraid of confinement of any type. I thought for a while my good neighbor might succeed where I had failed, but then she would be gone again. I think half of the neighborhood tried to rescue her. She made her rounds and when we got too close left. Or her owner would capture her and chain her up again.

He could not even bother himself with removing her body from across the road from his house, and burying her before the wild animals get to her.

Sometimes I find the world around me so sad. Why is it we cannot be kind to each other and the animals we live with. Do we all think we are granted permission to be horrid by the man in the white castle?

Meanwhile my mind flips through phrases of songs and beautiful skies I have photographed. With tears streaming down my face for Ghost I photographed poppies and my garden gnome. Whispering words of wisdom, Let it Be.

Those other dogs in my childhood memories were carried home and buried lovingly. Tears shed. Bushes or trees planted near them to shade their resting place. I hope Ghost when born again will find love.

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