My old favorite park appears to be cursed

Stories of lost cats, harassment, bitterness, and confusion

I’m typing this with shaky fingers, still unsteady from adrenaline that should be forty minutes dulled by now. I think my old favorite park in Madison—I used to walk there during my final year of college to catch sunrises over the water—is cursed.

Not like, superstitious cursed. I don’t believe in that. People cursed.

Yesterday I watched a young woman lose her cat (that is not a euphemism, I mean she actually could not find him) because he was unleashed and wandered off while she was distracted.

This morning Scout and I faced the most severe harassment we’ve experienced from a fellow dog owner out in public (I wish I was hyperbolizing).

I am a few things: Distraught my nostalgic spot, home of many golden mornings, is now twice marred in as many days; confused, befuddled, downright flabbergasted at the behavior of other humans; and in desperate need of some processing through words.