I often catch the oldest dog, poor Toastie, just staring at me. It's always a long stare, the other pets have gone to lie in their corners, and there is Toastie, staring, and I often wonder what he's thinking, if dogs really think at all.

I suppose I bestow human gifts upon him.... empathy for one, or is he just trying to weigh up my current mood? He knows me so well, my ups and downs, my elation and desperation, and seems terribly empathic to them all.

Today, it's desperation. My pills seem to be having a funny effect on me, I'm feeling down, and Toastie stares, silently saying, "I'll come and hug you if you like!" Or is he just weighing up his chances of getting a fly biscuit or a chew of a used tissue?

Why am I down anyway? Count the blessings, Kenny! However many they are, and they are legion really, it's the negatives that are creeping into my consciousness and taking control. My dad's frailty and his future. The fact we have no relationship at all now, of any worth. My sense of failure to have done or achieved much, due to years of alcoholism. The way I perceive people think of me: a fool, an ass, holding on in life by the skin of my teeth. The sinking realisation that I'm never going to do things I would have liked to do, as wasted years have left it all too late.

I guess it's wilderness experience. The wilderness of Lent and the experience of the Cross.

And I know that resurrection will come and that I will not always feel like this.

Meanwhile, Toastie stares on.