Dappled Normalcy

Here I am in the land of self-recrimination.   All because the side gate was left open and the dog got out again.  This is the second time she has escaped.  After the first time, I vowed to put a lock on each side gate.   I didn't, and the inevitable, second fooling of me occurred.  Shame on me.

I thought she was sleeping on her round bed in the other room.   I walked into the living room and looked through the picture window, to see her on the deck.   She was wagging her tail and being petted by the stranger currently sharing Elizabeth's bed.   "Yeah, she was roaming around all over the place," he said.

Trying to catch her added fury to my embarrassment.   She thought we were playing, so she tried to elude me.  I lunged to grasp for her, scraping my knuckles.   I got enough of her to elicit a yelp, and it dawned on her that I was angry.   

I wasn't angry at her, just at myself.   I felt humiliated by calling her to come, while she ignored me and wagged her tail next to the young couple kissing goodbyes poolside.   The sight of which turned my stomach a pale green.

"Thanks for corraling her," I said.  Great, I thought, now they are big heroes, and I am the total loser zero of a pet owner, who lets her prized animal wander the middle of the street.  

A shower yielded little comfort, so I drove over to Long's for a pair of cheap padlocks.  Very small satisfaction gained from putting them on the side gates, knowing that I was responsible for whether that side gate was open or not.   Whether the tenant left it open, or whether my beloved and I left it open capturing a spider web.   Whether the canine herself lifted the latch, exited the yard and replaced the latch herself, totally immaterial.   I wasn't taking care of my own business.  That is the humiliating part.   At least this time I have been saved the torture of actual harm coming to my beloved.   I know that I will still feel the hot sting of anger and it's aftermath, the frustration and sadness.   Achy.