Lesson from my Dachshund
Monday, my precious little mini bite my left hand so hard that I yelped in pain!
"Why do you bite the hand that feeds you?' I moaned and jerked my hand from his very old and very sharp teeth.
We were both stunned and hurt. Neither one meaning to hurt the other; yet, we were both licking our wounds. How do these things happen?
Radler had somehow hurt his neck. Years of jumping off of the sofas and running about attacking delivery men through the window glass have taken its toll. He was really wounded this time, peeing everywhere, and heavily medicated.
Drugs. They make for terrible judgment and quick response time.
My bandaged hand, and hurt feelings have lead me to a few days of wondering how I may bite the hand of the one who feeds me; God.
I rattle around moaning about all of the injustices in the world, and daily forget to thank God for all of the wonderful gifts that I have been given.
Sorry God. Sorry, Radler.
Let's start anew. Let me hold out this swollen and sad paw in appreciation for all that I h ave been given.
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