This morning while picking up things from the floor to avoid later tripping and falling on them as I learn to negotiate the room with an orthopedic boot and a walker, or a crutch when the walker won’t fit, I found a box lid which I had been trying to decide whether to recycle, and it was clearly quite wet… Well, ni corta ni perezosa, I immediately assumed it was my friend Lucas’ doing… and I looked at him sadly, or perhaps a bit strictly, and threw away the box lid in the garbage (as I figured you can’t recycle dog pee…) and slowly put away the rest of the things in the lid (magazines from 1989 that I had also been thinking of recycling…). As the mess on the floor, which had fallen off the bed while I was trying to manage my vitamins, Robitussin, and the odd sock, became less, I saw one of my stainless steel water bottles on the floor.

Yes, it was partly open, and yes, it was water, not urine, and I felt so badly, so wrongful, having chastised Lucas with my eyes… so I started to apologize to him, told him I was, after all, a human being and we human beings are quite fallible, even if we are heroes to our dogs (cats are much more savvy), and I called him over and caressed him and promised him a treat.

Why do we, why do I so frequently assume the worst in so many situations? Even though I know better, the initial reaction is to assume the worst, the scariest, the bloodiest. And that is after years of therapy and meditation! I have a small pack of Post-it notes which I bought because I thought them very à propos, which say, “I meditate, I do yoga, I chant… and I still want to smack someone!”

And I decided this would be short, because now I have to forgive myself, which is one of the hardest things, in my experience, to do…