At the Geneva market, there is this very old dog. I don’t know it’s name. It belongs to one of the vendors there, but I couldn’t tell you who. I only know that we’re not allowed to feed it because it throws up in the car on the way home.
This dog wanders around from 7:30 in the morning unti 1:00 in the afternoon. It never stays in one place long.
This week it sought refuge underneath one of my tables. It wasn’t looking for food, water or attention. It just wanted to rest a bit. I guess it felt safe in my space. Am I crazy to feel a little honored?