Random Thoughts

I’m trying to piece together or find meaning for the randomness of life back in the ‘real’ world, having passed the summer  in the land of synchronicity, Santiago de Compostela, (Sincron City perhaps) -where all opportunities and coincidences are considered to be life’s gifts, not just random.  In no way does that account for ‘stuff that happens.’

For example, and this  is a true story:

On a late evening stroll, a gentle dog is attacked by two thuggish dogs who appear from nowhere in an unprovoked attack, violent, pointless and shocking.  The dog tries to escape and the two attack again going for the soft underbelly and the kill.  Eventually,  amid the screaming from the gentle dog’s owner, just a girl,  and the growling of the thugs, the owners of the thugs manage to apprehend and stop the attack. The gentle dog flees, like an express train  – truly, the colour of a dog running away. The owner, tearful, hurries after, calling sweetly lest she frighten the animal further.

Even the thugs’ owners are in shock and apologise to the retreating girl.

The gentle dog has found its way home and is cowering by the front door, panting, panting. Relieved, the girl pats and pets the dog and weeps again when she finds blood on her hands.  Once inside, the extent of the damage is revealed and is horrific. A deep and worrying wound causes the girl and the dog to panic all over again.  Advice is sought via friends on Facebook. ‘calm the dog; more die from shock than actual harm.’ Condolences trickle in.  The dog can find no peace. So the girl scoops him off to the vet’s, nearing midnight.  An operation is needed and the dog must be put to sleep in order to stitch the wound, layers deep and administer antibiotics and painkillers.

Would this  have happened to another dog owner and their dog? Was it  random violence that would have taken pace anyway or  was this supposed to happen to this girl?

People talk of life’s lessons and I wondered if this incident had been ‘meant’ as a lesson for her. It certainly  influenced a decision.   It happened the day before she had interviews for a new job and a long list of flats to view in a town 40 miles away.  She was looking forward to the  challenge of the new. The kindness of her friends rallying with offers of help and messages of condolence made her think twice.  Then, as the new town was so busy compared to the rural idyll she lives,   she decided it would be no place for a sick dog. And so did not move after all.  The gentle dog and the girl are doing well.

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 Perhaps it’s only in fiction  that lose ends tie up neatly? Does that make for bad plot or is it the essence? Should story follow a pattern for it to be satisfying?  Logical, because life is rarely so. I have been struggling with a plot line for a competition.   I know the beginning and the end, it’s just the muddle in between    Finally it dawns, having been in Santiago in the summer that perhaps life is as it is and it is death that is random.
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