Tuesday, April 16, 2019

... and pungent

Social media is determined to rot my mind. I keep trying to pull away from it, have tried to remind myself of some prelapsarian joy, even, a glimpse of imagined happiness. 

Twitter, I thought. What could possibly go wrong there? It's just a curated personal newsfeed, I told myself. How can bits of news and partisan spin coming at my face and eyeballs at the speed of light possibly hurt me?

We tried drugging the dog but it didn't work. Doesn't surprise me that she didn't take to downers. She seems more of a speed freak to me. She's young, so I don't really know how to talk to her about it. I bought special treats so that I could hide pills in them, so that we could crate her without all of the emotional drama. But no. There will be some emotions and canine drama around crating and separation for her. That has become clear. I don't blame her at all. I'd react the same way if some 50 year old man was giving me drugs and locking me in a crate while he put on lycra underwear under his athletic shorts, then left the house for an hour, returning huffing, sweaty, and aromatic. I'd be out of my mind with terror at such a thing.