neuroticgirl's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Toby I can't believe I left that pathetic entry up all this time. Here let me replace it with something worse. Wednesday. I wake up, let the dogs out. Putz around. The dogs are barking ferociously (ha ha, they don't even dream anything ferocious, much less act it) at some workers nearby so I let them in. I went to the library, messed around for a while and came home at about 2. Let the dogs back out because the workmen were gone. At about 4 I see them outside the door looking all pathetic and I make the decision to leave them out there because they would just come in all wound up and start running around and getting on my nerves, you know, by being dogs. Plus, it's not like they're miserable outside, they run and play and stuff, it's a huge backyard. And they did, they ran off and started playing. Anyway, It's 5:30 ish and I'm about to leave to go to a baseball practice of a friends son. So I open the door to let the dogs in. Penelope (the puppy) comes bounding in but there's no sign of Toby. Which is just plain old odd, because usually he'll trample penelope trying to get in first. So the first thing I think is that he has escaped again. Because when David first moved here he hadn't met a single one of his neighbors but they had all seen him running through their yards after Toby at one time or another. So anyway, now I'm super aggravated because what a bad time to run away and make me go through all of this bullshit. I walked outside to see where he had gotten out at and I see him, lying down in the back corner of the yard. And at first I'm just happy he hasn't run away, but then I'm worried because he doesn't sleep that hard. And then I'm crying hysterically because he isn't sleeping at all. He was fine that morning. I don't know what happened. What happens to make a dog that is playing and happy one hour just die the very next hour. I have never felt so guilty and responsible in all of my life. I mean why couldn't I have just let them in. What kind of shit could they have done to get on my nerves that bad? I don't know what happened to him but what if it could have been stopped by just letting him inside the house? I called David at work, where he had told me earlier that he was having the worst work day that he had ever had in the whole 10+ years he's been in the military, and he answered and I don't even know how he understood me with me being so hysterical and everything. But he left work and came home and buried Toby. Which did wonders for that worst day thing I'm sure. I feel guilty for not letting him in, I feel guilty for not spending as much time with him as I should have, for just recently playing with him like I should. When David started working more hours I started cuddling up with him and rolling around on the floor and just generally paying him a lot more attention than I did before. Because he was such a massive dog that it was nice to wrap your arms around him and he was about the sweetest thing you ever did see. One particularly lonely day I was lying on the floor watching TV with my arms all wrapped around him and he tried to get up a couple of times but I wouldn't let go and finally he just licked my face and decided to let me cuddle with him. Because that's how good natured he was and I couldn't even be bothered to let him in the fucking house. 6:41 a.m. - 03.14.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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