Imagine you are Candy lying in bed, unable to sleep at the end of the day. Write your thoughts…
Lying on my bunk bed in my barn I stared at the wooden ceiling finished by brown boards joint together. The brown boards were filled with deep cracks, weathered and old, reminding me of my aged, ailing, sheepdog who was infested with rheumatism. As I thought of him, I unconsciously plunged into a deep depression and waves of emotions swept over me. My eyes blurred with tears as I thought of my old dog. Again and again, I tried to fall asleep, tossing and turning on the bed, but the task seemed unattainable. I leaned up and turned my face to the window, staring out at the pale crescent moon which shone like a silvery claw as well as the blanket of stars that stretched to infinity, and let an audible sigh.
Today was a very disheartening day for me. I have never felt as despondent and fatigue before. Not only was my heart filled with sorrow, it was filled with pangs of guilt. I had allowed Carlson to shoot my own dog Bingo, which I had own since he was a puppy. Bingo was innocent, and had done nothing wrong. Although he was diseased with rheumatism, did that give Carlson the right to kill Bingo? Was it right to do that? Bingo was not just a dog to me; he was like a friend, a best friend. We spent many cherished and unforgettable moments together, including herding sheep together. He was my long life companion, and without him, life would never be as complete as it used to be. Even though Bingo was now toothless, foul smelling, brittle with age and would never run as fast as my herd sheep like he did when he was younger, my love for him remained unchanged. I valued all of the elation and devotion that my once splendid dog had brought to me in my life. Did I make the right choice?