It is possible, working in the news media or even just consuming the stories we produce, to fall into the trap of thinking the world a terrible place, and all who live in it constantly set against each other.
Conflict sells.
But the world is not entirely fallen and humanity is not irredeemable.
I was reminded of this truth on Sunday morning when I most needed it. I had spent a largely sleepless night, tossing in my bed, checking my phone, alert to every little sound.
I wasn't waiting on an email, or engaged in a Twitter feud with Donald Trump. My dog was missing.
She had been gone for nearly 10 hours, after slipping out an unlatched door and unclosed gate. Sophie is a labrador and they have wandering souls, probably because they truly believe there's always another meal just around the next corner.
She is an old dog, loving and much loved, but between you and I, not the sharpest tool in the shed. Unlike the two cats, she has no road sense.
I knew she was gone within 10 minutes of her escape. She has a bluetooth tracker for just such emergencies. The range is about 10 metres, which is just enough to tell you she's gone.
She left at day's end and soon enough was out in the dark on her own. I drove around the suburb in the deepening gloom, looking for her. We called out her favourite meal from the front verandah.
"Breakfast! Sophie! Breakfast".
Every meal is breakfast for this dog. But she did not come for her second breakfast.
I wasn't frantic. But I did become sad as the night wore on and she didn't return.
She is not as agile as in her glory days. I think she's probably half deaf and her eyesight fails her. I feared she'd become lost in the dark, or even worse, trapped somewhere she could not escape; in a drain pipe chasing a discarded sausage or under some fence.
It was hard to lay my head down and sleep without the slow thump of her tail echoing through the house. Impossible as it turned out. I kept checking the tracker app through the night, ever hopeful that her icon would appear with a glowing green ring around it. When it didn't, I still got up and wandered out into the street a couple of times, alone with the possums and fruit bats. If they knew anything, they weren't saying.
Dawn came and with it real sadness.
No labrador willingly goes 24 hours without her second breakfast or night time breakfast. If Sophie was still drawing breath, I feared she'd be in a bad way somewhere. Run down. Trapped. Hopelessly lost.
Sunday morning was given over to an ever widening search. We got to know a lot of our neighbours, many of whom knew her from her previous travels. Everyone was sympathetic, but nobody had seen her.
She had a name tag, with my phone number, but she had scratched it off a couple of times. She was chipped, but that would only come into pay if the dog police caught her.
As the second dogless day dragged on, I started to prepare myself for the truth of it. She was gone.
And then, a call. From the local vet.
A young couple had brought her in. She had spent the night at their place after tunnelling into their back yard and striking up a friendship with their terrier. They fed her. Gave her a bed. Took her into the vet when nobody came looking for her. (We had actually door knocked them a short time after they left).
Many of you will know what a joy it is to be reunited with a friend thought lost. But there was another joy in this; the confirmation of truth rarely acknowledged.
Other people can be just lovely.
So thanks for looking after my dog, couple from around the corner. You made our family whole again, and gave me reason to have faith in the kindness of strangers.
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