Where Did She Go?

You know, I don’t even know her name. I know her dog’s though, it’s Olive. But Olive and the owner are both gone now. They seemed to be such a regularity in my life from late August until late October. I realize it’s cold, and that the two of them might have picked a warmer street corner, but part of me hopes not. Part of me, the largest part, hopes that they aren’t on the regular street corner because they aren’t on any street corner, that they are home, where ever that is, that they are warm and cozy, out of this below freezing wintery weather of New York City. I hope that the two of them have a warm bed and hot meals, that they aren’t outside in this chill, or worse. Their absence both worries me and gives me hope. But I’ll lean towards the hope, because Olive and Owner are far more resilient than most could ever hope to be.

But I think I will forever wonder where they went, where they could possibly be during such harsh weather. The pair of them seemed strong. Perhaps not Olive. Olive seemed to be the sweetest little–little being largely a matter of perspective–dog. Olive would be that dog curled up on the couch, keeping your feet warm, in January and July. Olive would be that dog happy to see that you came home.

Olive’s Owner seemed smart, she always had a book or crossword puzzle in her hands. Owner seemed caring too, selfless even. I could imagine how easy it would be to buy food for yourself before your dog, especially when money is as tight as it is on the streets. But Olive never wanted for food. Olive was always surrounded by a dog bone or a bowl of kibble. That type of bond seemed strong enough to survive the harshest of lifestyles. I mean, it was. Their relationship existed so resolutely on a New York City street corner.

That type of love cannot be broken by weather or harsh sleeping place. All of this leads me to think that they were together and warm, out of the unkind cold, this winter. I hope so.

I wrote this in response to My Neighbors.

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Their corner.

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