There are no bad dogs...just bad dog owners

It is funny how you can understand something intellectually but that it does not mean anything until you experience it. Kinda like being told the stove is hot verses putting your hand on it. Burning the fuck outta your hand is real knowledge, being told that the stove is hot is mearly information.

I am a walking hunk of heart meat. I cry until my eyes sting and I can't see the road. I reveal all of my secrets and bare my soul in the hopes that it will have some effect on whatever is happening to me. I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling and sweat under the covers. I sneak shots of tequila in the middle of the night. I write emails that I can not even remember. I stare out my bedroom window onto the rainy streets and into windy nights. I will do anything to distract myself from what the pain wants... It begs me to acknowledge it. And of course, I do...I want it take over management. The pain awakens some kind of primitive force within me and it is so glad to get out... the primordial monster I keep locked tight in my medula oblongata. It wants to break out and howl and the moon, and chase gazelles and eat them with its face buried in the bloody meat.

It is no puffer fish. It wants to protect the outer,softer me from the world and even myself. Sometimes I will let it bark a few times and then with all my might kick it's snarling drooling mouth back into it's spongy cage. It feels good to hurt people when you hurt, just like it feels good to listen to sad sounds when you are sad...but the joy is sour, short and totally sick. How quickly remorse and sense take back control of the brain reigns and the boys at corporate are back in charge of things. If there is one rule about being a human, it is to keep that inner dog under control. One of the few arguments that help me to believe in God is that we seem to be the only animal that is unhappy being himself. A dog loves being a dog, and if you want to see contentment look at a cat basking in the heat of a summer's day. Humans, however...no way, no how. For some wonderful reason we want to rise above our animal. I have no doubt that the inner dog would consume us if we give it an inch. But we are not evolved enough to let it go either. Your dog is there to save your ass. I wonder which half is the greater: the dog or the person holding the lease. And I wonder if there is no such thing as a bad dog, just a bad dog owner.