a pack of puppies

Today I did one of my favorite Sunday afternoon things to do. I went to my favorite local coffee shop, bought a beverage (pomegranate iced tea), sat outside, read my book, wrote in my journal, stared off into space, thought some thoughts, and watched cars traverse the vast expanse of Bardstown Road. As I was sitting there, occupied by my exciting inner life, some guy sat down at the table next to me, and pretty soon a small crowd of people gathered around him. I was really irritated, because groups of people sitting next to me tend to distract me from my very important activities (namely: staring off into space). But when I noticed what exactly was drawing the crowd, I found myself joining the crowd, too. This guy had no fewer than five adorable puppies with him. He rescued them from an animal shelter, apparently, and you could tell, because as I sat on the ground and cuddled any puppy that would let me, I was startled by the boniness of their tiny frames. I felt the urgent beating of their hearts and wished that I were in a position to take in a puppy or two. But since I’m not, I had to content myself with scratching their little faces and imagining a safe and happy future for their helpless little lives.