Worrying

At dinner with colleagues earlier this week, I confessed that I am very worried about the treatment of animals raised for meat in this country, particularly calves raised for veal.  I was so worried, actually, that I carried out all kinds of PETA-esque animal-saving missions in my dreams that night.  When I woke up in the wee hours, my pup was sitting at my side of the bed, waiting for permission to jump up, and I--in my anxiety-produced haze--thought he was a veal calf.  (It's harder to imagine when he's wearing a bandana, like in the picture above, but the black-and-white patterning convinced me.)  Every day I am getting closer to vegetarianism.

My colleagues took my anxiety as a good sign.  Now that I am finished worrying about my dissertation, they reasoned, I am able to worry about bigger, more important things.  Today I am worrying on a much smaller scale.  After a frisbee-related mishap, Mieko's lip is cut up (though healing), and last night he kept us awake as a result of his upset stomach.  My wonderful life partner, though, gets the "Best Husband Ever" award for taking Mieko out in the middle of the night, without waking me up.  Then everyone back into bed with more strange dreams....