I wish I wasn’t sitting here at the kitchen table writing this post.
I wish I was surfing Facebook, writing a lesson plan — and trying to keep my six-year-old dog, Boots, from nibbling on my toes.
But I will never scratch his ears, throw him a stick, cuddle with him on the couch, or chase him around outside, because our neighbor shot him.
The neighbor, who will not be prosecuted because he hid the body, and the rain washed away any blood stains. The neighbor, who will not serve any time, even though he has killed people’s beloved family pets before.