faces

Regrette won't go out in the rain. I know it must be really painful, holding it in, but she chooses one discomfort over the other and just sits there, looking at me, as if there is something I can do about it. It's raining, I tell her, but it's not my fault. If you've got business to take care of, you've got to take care of it. I say it out loud, because that's what people do. She doesn't understand.

Regrette has one of those faces, the kind that make you feel guilty even if you think she's happy. I think she is always thinking things could be so much better somewhere else, out in the country, chasing rabbits, pooping whenever she felt like it, no questions asked. Sometimes I wonder if I have one of those faces, too.