I Saved a Dog’s Life
On being heroic and hopeless at the same time.
I wondered how I could set a dog free and still feel like an accomplice in its suffering. I wondered if it was too late, if the rot in the wound would kill Sidewinder anyway.
I love to run along the mountain roads of my town here in Lebanon. I also have an affinity for ditching the task. By September, the summer had lulled me into late mornings full of coffee and news.
One day, I awoke at six. Chilly air blew the curtains through an open window. Instead of curling back up, I rummaged through the blue jeans and pub clothes taking up all the prime real estate in my closet. I found my running bra and a pair of pants crunched up in a corner. I found my running shoes and ear phones. I walked out into the dawn.
I was tired of my old route and decided to meander around the hilly, asphalt rises of the village and take the alleyways wherever they lead, following a path of stone walls festooned in red vines and thorny, skeletal shrubs bearing bright, hard, orange berries.
The windows were all shuttered and the town still slept. The sun peeped over the mountains and the sky turned blue. I worked my legs and lungs to the top of…
