
Sometimes the world can seem so cruel.
When I arrived at the bluffs last night I saw Dolce and Max playing together. Black and white, ebony and ivory, perfect harmony.
I looked at their owners. Dressed in black and white, they matched Max and Dolce, and incidentally coordinated with one another as well.
Then I looked at my owner. Pink and olive. A terrible match for my fur. And obviously not coordinated with the other owners either.
It's hard enough being a dog who's not great at playing wrestling games or running after balls. Why do I also have to have the misfit parent?
Sure, it's all in my own head. But it's still hard to be the dog who doesn't fit in.
I turned away and walked over to the edge of the bluffs, away from the pink and olive, black and white.
I drank deeply of the ocean breeze and thought of my dinner waiting for me at home.
I thought of all the dogs who don't have dinner waiting, and of all the dogs whose owners are worse-dressed than mine.
I thought about how much my owner loves me, and I decided that maybe it was time for us to go home together and investigate the dinner situation.