metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dogs We are like dogs. People are like dogs. We run along, thinking we know where we are going and all of a sudden we look around and nothing looks familiar. "Uh, oh. I'm a little farther from home than I figured. I'll just run a little longer. I'm probably headed in the right direction." And, so, we run a little more. The terrain is still unfamiliar and we begin to get that running lost dog look. The one with the glassy eyes and the tongue hanging out and it's just aimless running down the road. We, most of us, spend our lives like a running dog. Never finding home again, but memories of home fueling us to continue the run. Yes. I saw a dog running on the side of the road this morning. Dogs. I am always amused when I see that commercial that asks the burning question, "Is your dog a finicky eater?". Bah. That is such crap. As I sat this weekend out at the horse stall, and watched one of my dogs dig into a nice pile of hot horseshit for a snack, it reminded me. Dogs are not finicky eaters. They will eat horseshit. They prefer it warm, but will eat it cold in a pinch. Gah. They are so disgusting. I also think of one of the times they dragged a deer carcass into the front yard to gnaw on from time to time. It was real nice. All maggoty and shit. I guess the maggots added a tart "bite" to the rancid meat and rotting flesh, which they also reveled in rolling around in. Nice. So. Dogs - finicky eaters? Um, no. Not. 11:03 a.m. - 2003-12-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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