Creatures by the bridge.

Everyday or almost every day for a long time, I have seen a little sickly dog by the side of the bridge. It's waiting to die for no one is merciful enough to kill it. Helping it, they think is useless for it's not of any pedigree value, obviously. But he's beautiful. He's hurt, I can see, for he limps on one leg and makes little faces of pain. But day after day he's still there. Still very much alive. I pass by in my car on some days with a few tears, on others an incurable fascination glistening in my eyes. He seems as if he has survived the ages of the Earth, I can feel wisdom, acceptance and myself in him. Don't be mistaken my young friends, it's not my lack or excess of self-esteem that leads me to think a dog and I are something of the same,but how could I see him and not notice it, as a short stab somewhere in that soul of mine .I have a good mind to go talk to him someday, he'd definitely be a lot better than some human twits of my acquaintance.By now you can imagine that social niceties are hardly my strong suit. Before you think I'm crazy, that to me is an incredibly flattering idea by the way, I'll tell you why I'm attached to that little dog. He is that creature that no one will shoot out of sheer inconvenience. And in my heart, I know I've been that creature too. Just as empty, lost and bleeding as him, but yes.. a lot prettier.