Facebook and Making Friends

The girl said, “I have a white dog called Poodle, who is not really a Poodle. Yesterday Dad took me to the garage, alone, and told me that Poodle is probably going to die this week, because he is too old.” Ronda remained silent in her office, her eyes fixed on the monitor.

poodle-653887_960_720Young Ronda continued: “Poodle is my only friend, because nobody even wants to talk to me in school. And when someone does talk to me, it is only to make fun of or tease me. When I come home in the afternoon, Poodle used to always jump over me and lick me. We have been friends since I was born, but now he does not have any strength left to jump nor can he see me because he has gone blind. I have actually been crying all afternoon because I thought Poodle would always be my only friend, until I found out that you have 671 friends on Facebook.

The message flashed for a long time on the monitor. The architect could not bring herself to respond because she could not stop crying. She had not cried for years. “To be honest, of all those friends, only three of them are real.” The rest of them, I hardly know.

“There is something I can not understand,” said little Ronda. “I saw a lot of photos of you in your house … I know that you live alone, that you eat strange things and you take photos to the plate, that you go to parties, that you are an architect and that you travel by many places … But never I saw a picture of you with your dog now. Why do not you have photos with your dog? It’s ugly?”. The architect, replied, “I do not have a dog.”