Bad sleep
Last night was no fun. I awoke way before 6am. I remember having had a dream about my German Shepard. Dreams about him usually wake me up. I remember in the dream that I somehow discovered him under some furniture in someone else's house, perhaps my parents. He was crumpled in a heap like a pile of dirty clothes. He looked old, mangy and practically dead. I remember seeing his eyes glowing as he peered at me with recognition. I was aghast; horrified and enraged. How long had he been there? Who else knew he was here? When did he go out last? When was the last time he was fed? Why didn't anyone else tell me? How much longer do I have with him? How can I take away his pain and suffering? How can I hold him without hurting him? Should I get him out from under there? Does he hate me for letting him degenerate that way?
And my old Siamese cat was there, too, somehow, not in a dissimilar condition. It was horrible.
And my old Siamese cat was there, too, somehow, not in a dissimilar condition. It was horrible.