Walking to my car after a long day of constant work when I decide that today would not have been a good day to forget my winter coat.
Mid-west weather is bipolar. But this post is not about the PMS-ing weather. Long story short, I was aggravated from overcrowded hallways, two tests, an upcoming debate, deadlines for the newspaper, and, as stated, the cold, dreary weather. I sat in my car trying to avoid the after school rush, thinking how fellow students obtained their license to drive, when a sudden urge to cry emerged. Now you have to understand that I don't usually let my feelings go outwardly like that, so I was even more frustrated at the possibility of crying.
After an excruciating drive through traffic and ridiculous drivers, I was home.
I was about ready to collapse from the unbelievable reality of everything that has occurred the past month or so and I wasn't feeling up to anything. I was ready to make some Earl Gray Tea and curl up like a child in my bed and sleep, when I was brutally attacked by my 45lb German Shepard/Jack Russel mix appropriately named Rascal.
For non-dog owners, let me explain to you about how this went down. I walk in, backpack on, keys in hand, and my Forensics book lazily held in my right arm, when out of no where this crazy creature jumps on me and starts to whine.
All of a sudden, my feelings of self-pity and frustration at the world dispersed and everything seemed distant.
My theory: A dog believes that everything is love, everything is wondrous (even the many destroyed squeaky toys). It is like having an eternal two-year-old around 24/7; everything wrong with the world becomes minuscule to the innocence of the simplistic animal instinct to make everything better.
Why cuddling with him on the love seat made my day suddenly better, I cannot begin to explain. All I can explain is that when I took his multicolored fur in my hands and he licked my nose, I suddenly felt "lighter"; as if everything that hindered me less than 30 minutes before was nonexistent. Then he gave me this look that told me exactly how I could return the favor.
So I grabbed my winter jacket, scarf, Blackhawks knitted hat, mittens, and a plastic bag and headed for the dreaded weather that awaited an overly excited dog and his loving (yet already cold) owner.
Mid-west weather is bipolar. But this post is not about the PMS-ing weather. Long story short, I was aggravated from overcrowded hallways, two tests, an upcoming debate, deadlines for the newspaper, and, as stated, the cold, dreary weather. I sat in my car trying to avoid the after school rush, thinking how fellow students obtained their license to drive, when a sudden urge to cry emerged. Now you have to understand that I don't usually let my feelings go outwardly like that, so I was even more frustrated at the possibility of crying.
After an excruciating drive through traffic and ridiculous drivers, I was home.
I was about ready to collapse from the unbelievable reality of everything that has occurred the past month or so and I wasn't feeling up to anything. I was ready to make some Earl Gray Tea and curl up like a child in my bed and sleep, when I was brutally attacked by my 45lb German Shepard/Jack Russel mix appropriately named Rascal.
For non-dog owners, let me explain to you about how this went down. I walk in, backpack on, keys in hand, and my Forensics book lazily held in my right arm, when out of no where this crazy creature jumps on me and starts to whine.
All of a sudden, my feelings of self-pity and frustration at the world dispersed and everything seemed distant.
My theory: A dog believes that everything is love, everything is wondrous (even the many destroyed squeaky toys). It is like having an eternal two-year-old around 24/7; everything wrong with the world becomes minuscule to the innocence of the simplistic animal instinct to make everything better.
Why cuddling with him on the love seat made my day suddenly better, I cannot begin to explain. All I can explain is that when I took his multicolored fur in my hands and he licked my nose, I suddenly felt "lighter"; as if everything that hindered me less than 30 minutes before was nonexistent. Then he gave me this look that told me exactly how I could return the favor.
So I grabbed my winter jacket, scarf, Blackhawks knitted hat, mittens, and a plastic bag and headed for the dreaded weather that awaited an overly excited dog and his loving (yet already cold) owner.
