TMi

{ longing for freedom can look like this } Our canine resident El Rocco took rather doggish action against a dove about a week ago. He caught it and gave it a chew or two before he was stopped. The dove was in a shock and tried to get away, but could not fly. It was captured yet again and examined. We figured it was suffering from wing sprain and bruising. There was no blood and the joints/bones seemed more or less ok.  It would not have been right to leave the animal outside in it's maimed but curable condition. One of our local cats would have surely taken advantage of the easy meal situation. The humans of the house were determined to care for the dove as long as it needed (less than two weeks was the accurate guesstimate). At first it was kept in a wooden crate, but when I got close to look in, the dove just glared out from between the slats, unmoving. I knew the look. I've seen the expression in guinea pigs and in my own reflection. It was not a happy creature. It

τὸν τεθνηκóτα μὴ κακολογεῖν What? It's a new year? Twice over now? No. You can't fool me with that talk. There's nothing new about this year. It is decidedly a continuation of the last one- which was, in fact, a new year; though I won't trouble you with an explanation of how time does not move the way you think it does. And this post here, well, I guess it should finally go out. Ready or not. It's been sitting in edit mode, being edited sporadically for many, many months.  Last summer it was strange to be a tourist in Boston as I had never been in my younger days; when I lived closer to the city and it would have made more sense. I learned about the Bunker Hill misnomer mixup (go look it up) and walked the Freedom Trail. I felt the contentment of the dead in the much visited cemeteries. I saw at least two anorexic women in a posh neighborhood. But hey- why begin an actual written post after all these months of silence by jumping into random commen