Dogosophy

Its been a while since I last posted. Just caught up in the humdrum of life. Work, family, friends, (have got myself a bunch) chores at home, dealing with my uncle . . . all at the speed of life.

This morning a friend asked me an interesting question while we were walking. She has known me for a short while and I feel very comfortable with her, almost like I've known her for a long time. Going back to the question she asked: "Are you a recluse? You had indicated that you were. Explain why you said so." Clearly all my recent social acrobats and the number of people I tend to be friends with made her wonder why I had in the first place claimed to be a recluse.

I thought over it and realized that though I tend to think more and more of myself as a recluse, I tend to be rather extroverted and am more often prone to putting my foot in my mouth and stuffing it down my throat rather than hiding it safely in my apartment. But I think that as I have grown older, even though I continue to be a very extroverted person, I have become more and more detached from life and the people I am with. I love people and meeting them and knowing them, but never find myself bonding with them. Add to that I have no hassles spending time by myself and very often have no problems cuddling up with a book and a glass of wine (I've been doing that every evening almost) or watching a movie by myself (tons) without feeling depressed about it. So I guess I am an extrovert recluse. My friend bought my answer. :)

Among other things. I walked a basset hound this evening at the Humane Society. His name was: Sam, a complete philosopher. He lead me down a trail (very politely letting me know which direction it preferred by timely tugs) that lead to a spot on a ridge that looked down to a valley and you could see the sun setting on the opposite hills. I loved the view. Once we reached there, he sat down with his face to the sun and gave me a "and-won't-you-join-me" look. It was very very peaceful. We sat there for a little while watching the sun dip. Man and dog and nature . . . all bowing in silence to the setting sun. I hope Sam enjoyed the walk in the woods, 'cause he sure did make my day.