Sometimes, I cry for no reason. For instance, last night, with no prompting whatsoever, I started thinking about the dog that I used to co-own, but who now is exclusively owned by my ex-husband. The dog who I haven’t seen since that one time I went back to get a few things (for instance, the chair he — the ex-husband, not the dog — was no longer using, but not the bookcase, because he might need that sometime), which seems like a really long time ago.
I was hit by this sudden assurance that my dog had died and no one had told me. I got really sad and started thinking about how I had heard on the radio that the humane society had to close for renovations and any animals left at the end of that day would be put to sleep and so I drove down there and saw him, my dog, lying on the concrete, with his head on his paws, all sad and big and red. And how he jumped right in the truck, like thank you for rescuing me from that concrete place! I love trucks! And how he used to climb up on my lap, even though he weighed 100 pounds, to get his tummy scratched. And he’d bring me his tennis ball, all slobbery and dirty, and he’d cock his head in confusion if I didn’t grab that ball right away: who wouldn’t be excited to play with a ball so well-loved?
And then I told myself that I was being really dumb. That I had no reason to be sad about an irrational thought for which I had absolutely no reason to believe was true. But then, then I realized that even though he was surely happy and healthy, dreaming silly dog dreams right at that moment, I’d probably never see that goofy red dog again. And I missed him.