Highlands' Spiritual Journey, Book II: 4:00 am - Saturday, July 29, 2000

10:30 pm...

I have made mention quite a number of times, in great detail, the familial circumstances in which I was raised: military, oppressive, aemotional, excepting of course, the hostility While some of the consequences of this environment I have worked arduously to transcend, some hold on with a tight grasp. Others I am not willing to let go.

Not knowing what to expect at any given moment, except that someone's mood could change from nonchalant to angry in mere milliseconds, has not only made me stoic and withdrawn, but highly observant. It was to my benefit to learn how to read even the subtlest nuances of my family's demeanor solely for the purpose of self preservation. Knowing when to shut down, before an ensuing tirade, meant that I could protect my sanity and not let the full force of toxic energy into my spirit and body.

Some always seeped through the cracks, though.

I remain observant to this day. I see a great many things around me that very few others see. My sense of awareness is very much heightened. It takes a mere few seconds, the expression on someone's face, the tone of someone's voice, the utterance of a phrase, and I can fairly accurately dissect what is going on in his or her world at that moment in time.

Unfortunately, on all too many occasions, I see things I would rather not see.

About a week ago, The Goddess and I were gassing up the car at a service station located on the main thoroughfare through the Province. What this means is that it is always bust there at this time of year, and that the patrons are usually not local.

On this particular day, I noticed one of the teen clerks, clad in his uniform, petting a dog just beside the entrance to the store. Given that he was holding a lunch pail well after lunch time, and his jacket, I surmised that he was waiting for Mom or Dad to come pick him up. The dog's owner was standing there, too, while the lad scritched the boxer's rather sad looking mug. The hound was short, with stocky legs, tan fur, and black face. He looked purebred, about middle age. As I was walking into the store, I heard the lad mutter,

"You mean he's mine? Is there anything wrong with him?".

After standing in line and subsequently paying for my gas, I came out of the store only to see the owner approaching her dog, and its new owner, with an almost empty bag of dog food and an envelope which most likely contained the dog's registration papers. The car from which she came was full of luggage. It had a man behind the wheel. There was an adolescent boy standing beside an opened passenger door, staring at the woman as she approached the dog and his new owner.

Their car had a Maine license plate.

I guess the poor pup was putting a damper on their vacation.

Bad dog...