The way she loves the dog and can still let go of the dog is inspiring. A long walk with the dog we might adopt, but both know that we will not adopt, the dog in a new red collar to match her foxy demeanor and soft tan fur. She wanders around, not too unlike me, wondering what to do with herself, and yet also, wanting to be here. On the green bed, on the long brownred shaggy kitchen carpet, by the door, leaning against the door, getting cold near the door where the cool comes in through the bottom sliver between the floor and door. She is outside making noises, moving hoses around. That is when the dog leans and waits.