The Real Struggle Is About You: You,

I'm Still Prone To Periods Of Isolation, Still More Fearful Of The World Out There And More Averse To Pleasure And Risk Than I'd Like To Be; I Still Direct More Energy Toward Controlling And Minimizing Appetites Than Toward Indulging Them.

I Once Heard A Woman Who Had Lost Her Dog Say That She Felt As Though A Color Were Suddenly Missing From Her World: The Dog Had Introduced To Her Field Of Vision Some Previously Unavailable Hue And Without A Dog, That Color Was Gone. That Seemed To Capture The Experience Of Loving A Dog With Eminent Simplicity. I'd Amend It Only Slightly And Say That If We Are Open To What They Have To Give, Dogs Can Introduce Us To Several Colors With Names Like Wildness, Nurturance, Trust And Joy.

Trying To Describe The Process Of Becoming An Alcoholic Is Like Trying To Describe Air. It's Too Big And Mysterious And Pervasive To Be Defined. Alcohol Is Everywhere In Your Life, Omnipresent, And You're Both Aware And Unaware Of It Almost All The Time, All You Know Is You'd Die Without It, And There Is No Simple Reason Why This Happens, No Single Moment, No Physiological Event That Pushes A Heavy Drinker Across A Concrete Line Into Alcoholism. It's A Slow, Gradual, Insidious, Elusive Becoming.

The Real Struggle Is About You: You, A Person Who Has To Learn To Live In The Real World, To Inhabit Her Own Skin, To Know Her Own Heart, To Stop Waiting For Life To Begin.

The Dog’s Agenda Is Simple, Fathomable, Overt: I Want. “i Want To Go Out, Come In, Eat Something, Lie Here, Play With That, Kiss You. There Are No Ulterior Motives With A Dog, No Mind Games, No Second-guessing, No Complicated Negotiations Or Bargains, And No Guilt Trips Or Grudges If A Request Is Denied.