Tamino (tamino) wrote,

One of the disadvantages of modern md5-based passwords is that if you mistype your password in such a way so that there's a character or two at the end that you didn't mean, it doesn't let you in anyway. Back with the old kind of passwords, if you had an eight-character password, and you accidentally typed nine characters (the first eight of which were your correct password), you'd be fine. They were forgiving, that way.

I caught a country song on the radio today, that I'd never heard before. It was "Straight Tequila Night" by John Anderson. The setting is a bar where all the regulars know each other -- much like Callahan's.

Also like Callahan's, the denizens of the bar in the song are concerned with each other's emotional well-being. Well, kind of. At least to the degree that it helps them get dates. But... that's okay. Of such things, I think, is a deeper compassion born.

One thing I haven't had recently is the chance to have not just a collar, but a leash. It seems like this should be such a simple thing to arrange to have happen. Two furries are snuggling, one of them starts to feel littler than the other, or less verbal, or more animal, or more in need of reassurance and security. A leash is a natural next step, right? It never seems to work out that way, somehow.

I'm a dog. Love, and trust, are always just barely under the surface. I have all these emotions that are ready to come out, but I'm just never in a situation where I feel safe enough.

I can picture, in my head, what it would be like to have a group of regulars somewhere (not necessarily a bar)... somewhere where it smells musky, and safe, with all the scents of all the regulars, where you don't have to talk in human language, where you can just go, and stretch out on a well-worn sofa with a book, and someone might come and curl up at your feet. And you could pet them or scritch them, or you could just tacitly let them stay there, because for dogs, simply a few square inches of *contact* can be all the reassurance you need. And someone might come up behind you and pet you, or not. And regardless... no matter what... you would be *safe*. As long as you were there, you would be safe, and warm, and fed, and if you had a need you could express it, and the other people there would express their needs and give you a chance to help with them, too.

Callahan kept a few sandwiches around for when they were needed, too. "Eat up," he said. "They were getting stale."

We furries have so much potential for wonderful, raw emotion. I don't know why it's so hard to live up to that potential, so much of the time.

*nuzzles anyone reading this.*
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded