Saturday, June 29, 2013
I had kind of a sad day today; my neighbor moved and took the community dog with her. This is a dog that everyone loves but nobody ever really took responsibility for. He lived at the gas station/general store for a long time and the store owners paid for his tags out of the "leave a penny" tray, but they passed away last year. Maria took over paying for his license, but he still had run of the "town." My parents loved him and would make sure he always had water, and he was particularly fond of their indoor-outdoor rug, and preferred their trailer to sleep under. In the two months that I've been watching the trailer, I took over the water duty and would feed him when Maria traveled for work. She was gone all of last week, got home yesterday afternoon but then left again, and then this morning a flotilla of pickup trucks descended and within 4 hours they had her packed up, the trailer hooked up, and the dog loaded up, and off they went. She found a house for rent closer to the nearest actual town. He'll be safer there (he has a bad habit of sleeping on the highway and has been run over at least three times), but I'm sure going to miss him.
Now, for most of my life, something like that would have sent me into an eating tailspin. I would have drowned my sorrows in coffeecake and ice cream and maybe Cheetos. But this time, my reaction was to guzzle a Diet Coke.
I still eat too much sometimes. I still have 15 pounds I'd really like to lose. But something fundamental has changed in the past few years. I eat too much, and the wrong things, because I like food. I don't do it because I'm sad, upset, angry, or scared. That's a victory.