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There are days that make my worst days seem pretty OK. Sometimes there's so much pain that it absorbs every smile, every hope, every chance for something good, like a black hole, and everything dies in it.

One of the dogs I take care of - the German Shepard, has to be put down. It seems I am the only one who cares enough for him to make that decision. I feel so bad I can't even talk about it. And don't dare to judge me if you hadn't have to clean a dog lying in a pool of his own urine. 

Life is nothing more but the time between birth and death. Sometimes I still wonder why I bother with it at all. The balance is never right.