enough

***Please be warned that I am not editing this… just writing what I feel in this particular moment. Don't take it too seriously.***

Right now, I am on the train back to London. I am writing this in the hopes that my staring at a computer screen will stop the woman sitting across the aisle from asking if I'm alright. Our beloved whippet, Trumpet, better known as Trump, died this morning. While this alone would probably make me cry, the tears that are welling up in my eyes, the ones that would lead this woman to ask if I am ok, are not coming forth in love or sadness (those may come later) but in anger. I am furious… at fate or randomness or, actually, in my case, God.

So if I am, in fact, not a complete and total idiot and if you are out there, God, and you happen to be tuning in today: what is wrong with you? Truth be told, some mornings I think it would be better not to believe in anything… that it would be a greater sign of hope to embrace a chaotic world than a distant god. I hear the criticisms all the time: if there is a God that he's a sicko who gets his kicks from our suffering or worse an absentee-landlord. Lately, though I still believe, I've not got much in the way of a retort .So if you are there: Enough…Enough… Enough…
Enough… ENOUGH!!!!

Clearly this isn't about a dog. My mother has lost absolutely everything in the course of this past year. Her marriage. Her savings. Her job. Her home. Her health has become an issue. Her loss of confidence and control, a crisis. And in the midst of all of this, she's alone. I live in England Clara is finding her own way. My grandfather is dying. Her friends are 'too busy.' JP is a drain.
So what has she got? A dog.

Frankly, I'm feeling a little knocked around right now. Or rather, I'm tired of watching my mother get knocked around. Every piece of news I get from that line is bad news. I think we've been good sports about it. But I've had enough. So God, if you're out there: wake up and put up!