The next morning was bright and breezy – the sun seemed to smile down at me through a halo of golden rays; frankly, it made me feel crappy.

Yes, that’s right: crappy.

I felt like I was the only thing in the entire world that actually had dampened spirits.

The birds were chirping in the trees – the trees themselves seemed to have emeralds for leaves as they happily rustled in the fresh, northerly zephyr that blew gently past.

Everyone seemed to be happy…or at least, on their way to being happy.

Even the postman was being chirpy. I gave him a mini glare as he swept past me, whistling a jaunty tune.

It lifted my mood to see his chipper attitude crushed when he passed a red-brick house and Mr. Howitz’s Doberman barked at him.

I made my own path, also passing by Mr. Howitz’s house – but Skipper (that’s the dog) – didn’t bark his head off when I crossed his gate.

Instead, the dog looked at me with a stare that seemed to say: yeah, I feel that way, too.

And boy, could I ever relate to him.