No price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.
The quotation above has not much to do with this blog other than this is my life and I’m owning it and myself, enlightened or not.
I’ve been a vegetarian now for a solid week. Nevertheless, I may have hurt living beings this weekend when I swept Akasha and Lili out of the kitchen with a broom and then banished them from reentry with a baby gate. The two were making me crazy with all their circles and staring. They’re old and needy and neurotic and entirely too much like myself for us all to be attempting to occupy the same space at the same time. In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ll admit that I yelled angrily at them as it was happening. But yelling doesn’t count if it is directed at a deaf dog, right? I only asked that trick question in a last-ditch effort to exonerate myself from my bad behavior. The answer of course is: Yelling at a deaf dog still counts because dogs read body language. Beyond that, I suspect that in her doggy brain the act of being swept away with a broom = very, very bad. In fact, she whined pitifully about it. The cat only continued to turn circles.
Yip, The Great of Avenger of Mistreated Pets, evened out the score by yowling for four hours straight during our Monday morning commute. The yowling didn’t cease when she’d made it safely (through blizzard conditions, I might add) to her destination. She continued to follow me around the apartment from room to room yowling up at me while I got ready for work. She had food and water, so I have no idea what the ruckus was about. Then, as I stood staring into the abyss of my closet trying to decide what costume to wear that adequately portrayed “Monday Morning Professor,” she took a break from howling at my back to bite me on the calf.
When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.