A Bird's Eye View of Life

Last night I came home and discovered that one of my dogs had escaped. For the third time in three weeks. She pushed open a window and busted out the screen and then went off gallivanting sometime not too long before I made it home. A sickening pitch of panic set in as soon as I realized she was gone again. I came down from my adrenaline wave when I received a phone call from a woman several blocks down the hill who had my dog.

The night before last as I walked home from the bus I saw a deer get hit by a car. Its hind quarters were struck by a Jeep Cherokee and it lay quivering in shock and pain on the side of the road as I stood there horrified, flummoxed. Finally I got my wits about me and tracked down animal control who came and got the deer, most likely for prompt euthanasia, which sure beats out a slow and painful death on the side of the road.

I am almost afraid to go home this evening for fear of seeing what travesties await me. Will there be a burst pipe under the house as there was a few months back, with water pooling around our boxes stored in the basement? Sewage on the front step from a burst pipe? A rejection notice in the mail that dashes all my hopes for a year and sentences me to another summer of studying to take a standardized test? Would a pleasant surprise be too much to ask? I guess there's always the mild thrill of getting a Netflix in the mail, that is, when they're not throttling me, i.e. purposely slowing down the rate at which they deliver movies to my mailbox, a practice that they now disclaim per the terms of a law suit over the matter.

So silver lining, I seek thee out. Art thou the friendly swarming of my dogs around my legs when I arrive home (if they haven't already escaped)? The comfort of my couch and the relief of removing heeled shoes? A glass of wine and a seat on the deck with a view of the city? I cradle now, these fragile little pieces of enjoyment. I suppose I could imagine myself like a bird, or some other indifferent, aerial animal, surveying the trivial wreckage and treasure of my day-to-day. That's what I need: a bird's eye view on life.