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  • Writer's pictureCrone

In different circumstances

I told a tale a while back of a girl on a runaway horse and my fruitless attempts to be of use. That was in the boggy monochrome days of winter. In spring, with the ground getting firmer and the green buds just starting to show, I saw her again. This horse, she told me, has brakes. She also had a young collie along with her. A happy trio they seemed, in the sunshine under the ringing vault of birdsong and invisible stars.


There's a constant little sadness in me when I see riders. That little needle of ice in my heart as I register, yet again, the loss. And a like sense of concern at the thought of young dogs. As mine ages, I feel fear about the future. If I can't run with him... Already there are things... like his inability to go up and down the stairs in my house, his worry about the steps in my garden and the jump into the back of the car. His movement which lacks its former fluidity. I am gentler all the time, more appreciative, more attentive, making sure I show him affection, help him feel safe.


The anxiety too reaches out to the cats. I worry that an indoor life is too frustrating, too limiting. It feels wrong that I do not allow them freedom. If they could make the risk analysis I think they'd choose the dangers rather than the confinement. I feel that their brains will atrophy. I don't play with them enough. I don't provide enough activity for them. I am letting them down. Failing them.


All this. The sun shines and the birds sing and my heart is all on what I have lost, what I will lose and what I make others lose.


Perhaps in different circumstances I would see this differently.

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