Next doors dog...

It's pouring rain. It's cold and damp and miserable. It is nearing the end of October and the sky is already beginning to darken and it is only half five. An outdoor event, a Zombie walk, that I was meant to go to tonight has been cancelled because of the oncoming horrible windy wet weather that is promised tonight. I am sitting in my car staring at a poor dog that is sitting patiently in the muddy filthy field next door that boarders the fence of my driveway. The poor thing, he or she is waiting for me to come out of the car. In her mind I guess she is thinking I might feed her this time. Or I might talk to her this time. Or I might, and I am sure that this would be the best thing of all, I might play with her. Interact with her and treat her like a living being. Of course I never do any of these. I never interact with the poor what so ever. It is only a dog. An animal that is chained up outside a house, lonely, wet and probably pretty cold. It is bitterly cold this evening so I run into my house and glance at the poor canine one last time for the evening. She is standing up expectantly in the field, gleefully gazing at me, her tail wagging.