My Wretchedness
144 words
Our dog, Cheskie, is frail, worried, and weak. He is not particularly loyal. His main emotions are exasperation, disinterest, and fear.
He has little appetite, ignores treats, and does not lick faces nor hands. The only game he plays is a staring contest that has no rules, no winners. He has brain damage, nerve damage, he limps and falls over. He seems most content when licking the patio floor.
We bought him a soft bed; he prefers an old rag on the floor. He is the Simone Weil of dogs, mesmerized by suffering, alert to his abject nature.
But Cheskie’s sheer incapacity reminds me of my own incapacity. He and I are pathetic and wretched, yet whole. His companionship is a constant reminder: I must submit myself to the mysteries of existence, to the care of others, to the oblivion that some call God.
The above essay is 144 words, a part of a series explained over here.
this is exactly what i'm here for
Oh, so beautiful and funny!