Time heals all and I expect this to become more manageable too. It has only been a little over a month. It has been a miserable month, though, filled with sudden jags of breathless tears that come on like tropical showers and leave me dumbfounded at their power. Two steps forward, one step back, and on the back steps, I'm better staying in my house alone not peopling.
A couple weeks ago, I started looking at Maltese available through adoption and rescue. Just looking, I thought. Ellie da Pug is clearly depressed. When I go back to school she will be alone all day, and I worry about her longevity in this situation. I found no doggies that could live with cats and other dogs under the age of 9 that didn't have medical problems. This led me to look at puppies. Not to ever replace my Tillman, but to ease the pain of the loss. You can't be bawling and feeling like a cracked statue with three pounds of white fluff is kissing your face. Yes, I am desperate for relief from this Maltese-free environment. They are little joy machines.
My neighbor Anne suggested a puppy weeks ago when she saw me not moving on the wa
y I wish I could have. I declined the idea, facing thoughts of betrayal to my pup. But with school coming and the thought of Ellie in a house without canine companionship on the immediate horizon, my sense of duty and irreverent living kicked in. Yesterday morning, I committed to a 9 day old maltese puppy in Pennsylvania, and thanks to another great frien
d who agreed to help shuttle the fuzzy muffin up here, it is rather doable. So, here is to Teddie, a little girl who will be about 4-5lbs and will be my next canine antidepressant. I really have no clue how else to resolve this discomfort and unsettledness except with loving another dog. Sorry universe and world! End of September she will be here, probably making me wish I never ever did this until she settles into being a lovely trained adult. Pray for us all. !
Last night Tim and I went to my Happy Place, Hampton Beach, at sunset. It was beautiful. Very few people on the shoreline, the entire space bathed in a warm, orange glow. It was perfect -- with humid (but cool) air creating an ethereal fog. I stood for a minute ankle deep in the frigid water, looking at the expansiveness of the empty sea and sky, and just thought of how much I loved my dog. Just let myself think about it. I talked to him in my head, and told him the same things I told him when I held him in my arms as he was passing. I put a small bit of his ashes into the ocean and watched as they were pulled into the sea by a retreating tide. I prayed that my sadness would go with them. Hoping my silly ritual helps in some small way. We humans really don't know a thing about life and death at the end of the day, do we? Now whenever I visit my special place and look out to the ocean, it is that much more special.
And then, the (un)expected happened. My books became too heavy and the little curio bust was knocked to the floor. It's base cracked and flaked apart. The order I got used to proved itself to be a temporary one, and while I rescued the statue and I can still keep it, it is not the same and never will be.
See where I am going with this? Hopefully, the piece will relate all of this when complete. Until them I am letting it bob in the waves of my unconscious and trying to just push forward and get the darn thing done. Cheers!