Tuesday, March 20, 2018

No poem. Just an honest letter about my dog.

I am too upset to write a poem. So I’m just going to write. And hope I don’t regret it tomorrow.

The next door neighbor’s dog attacked my dog.

She is OK, just injured. A miracle, considering the other dog is a “Pit” known to be vicious. She saved her daddy’s life (and HE most definitely saved hers).

This is a bad neighborhood, with a lot of crime. Not the kind of place where I spent my life, but since I got sick with ME/CFS, and live on SSDI, this was all I could afford.

It’s not worth it, though. 

Living here is not safe for our spirits, let alone our bodies. I don’t want any of us to live here any more, and will eat 99-cent ramen if nevessary to make that change happen. 

For tonight, though, the dog and her dad are safe and sleeping. And I am laying here, trying not to think about the suffering neighbor-dog, injured during the “prying off” process, whose owner refused to take him to the vet. 

Trying not to think about how the police and animal welfare officers refused to respond to the scene because it is snowing.

Trying to feel safe, and not sad about how shitty life feels right now. Trying to quell a feeling of helpless rage. And to resign myself to dealing with this until we are able to leave.

Finally, reminding myself of the few neighbors on the block who reached out to help by calling the cops, running over with a pry-bar of some sort, and asking, later, how Lucky is doing. The world isn’t all bad.

A terrible photo of beautiful Lucky

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