barking at planes

Our dog, Appa, barks at planes.

He can’t see them.

He can hear something big in the sky…but he doesn’t know what it is.

I hear him barking at night….barking at all of the unseen things.

Barking at planes.

Great Pyrenees! Go figure.

I’m “barking at planes” a lot of my days, too.

Worrying about things.

Perceived problems and unresolved disputes.

It’s nothing I can see, either….probably nothing that even really exists.

It’s just something that I think is outside of my fence

Now, if the expression of my worry got too intense….if I started scratching holes in my skull or began talking to myself more urgently…someone might suspect mental illness.

I’m Norwegian, though….so my worry is expressed by just waking up early and drinking too much coffee…staring quietly out into that dark night….full of silent angst.

That’s the Scandinavian way.

That’s how I roll.

Anyway, it’s best to never show your cards….whether you’re playing a game or going nuts.

Who wants to see that?

People have enough to worry about.

I’m not sure what’s “out there”.

I don’t know how to figure all these people and their motivations out.

Barking at these planes isn’t going to stop them from flying.

I need to let them roll on by.

Roll by, planes…roll on by.

Go somewhere…. away from me.

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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