Sad Clowns

Red Dog was not the same dog every day. Some mornings he'd greet me on the porch with a funny look on his face. I could only guess what was happening inside his head.

If he had been a human, we'd have talked. However, he was just a dog so all we could do was to look at one another in a way that said, "Everything is OK; don't worry."

That day, I also felt different. Who knows why?

"Red Dog," I said, "the sky is bluer today than it has been all year. Last night the air was more crisp than on any other of summer's nights. Summer is changing to fall, Red Dog. Can that be why we feel this way today?"

Red Dog looked at me, then turned away.

"Today the Monarch Butterflies fly high in the sky, migrating south for the winter," I continued. "How beautiful they are against the blue sky! Why... yes, Red Dog, that's how I feel. It's so beautiful today and the weather is so good and gentle, but somehow it seems to me that the sky is a huge blue eye crying hundreds of tiny, orange tears. Red Dog, if that is the way the sky seems to me today, then I must feel like a sad clown!"

I was glad to express the exact way I felt that day, but I still had no idea how Red Dog was feeling.

"Arf!"

With a sparkle in his eye, Red Dog took off down the gravel road, chasing a rabbit.

"Ah," I laughed to myself, "whatever he felt like a moment ago, right now he feels like chasing a rabbit!"