Sunday, February 8, 2015
Our last stop was to look at a dog in a cage, kept next to a neighbor’s vegetable patch. It saw us and barked. The outrage I used to feel about such things has diminished with time, but it still makes me sad to see, and I toy with the idea of asking Chen Taitai (like ‘frau’) if she could let the dog out for the boys to see. What a change from 08, when I stuck a leaflet in a neighbor’s doorway my last night here (keeping away from the security camera), claiming to be a notice from a fictional animal rights group, requesting that they allow their chained dog sufficient exercise time off the chain. I doubt it did any good -- although they no longer have a dog chained up. The wind probably blew it away before they even saw it. I say nothing to the woman, and instead hurry the boys home and wash their hands. I tell Sara we ate a hot dog at 7-11, not wanting to disappoint her for missing a real breakfast. It’s already 11, but I’ve still got a little juice in me, so I try revising that paper I’ve been writing for, oh, a year now. . .