Old Dogs

"I haven't written a blog in a while. I thought I would post this one, since it has been in my drafts for over a month now. I had a dream. It's a long story. Let's just say it involved me, a puppet show, and Satan's biggest hammer taken to my Achilles heel."

My mind begins to wander aimlessly, across the interstate of dreams, until it intersects with nightmarish desolation. I am at the doorstep of the ghost that haunts me, and I don't want to step inside.

Old dogs have lived in your home longer. They've walked down your hallway. They've guarded your house. When something you've always wanted appears in front of you, will you ostracize the old dog in favor of a newer, more compact model?


Nothing haunts me the way this does. What happens to the ones who were once loved? This anxiety plagues no one the way it does the old dog. For everyone else, the newness is a novelty, because so many have been fed the mantra that "all change is good change".

The old dog is an orphan; he begs at your bedside for a morsel of favor. He longs to become all that you ever wanted, but his incapability is evident in his actions, his bark, his stature. Do his inadequacies make him any less worthy of your favor, especially when his desire to win your favor rises above every failure?

The old dog is a ghost, but remains even after he is forgotten.