Dear Friend,
It is funny, the habits one develops without noticing. It was my habit to talk to you old lady. To talk to you about everything. And now, without you to talk things through, when I try to write them its just a messy knot of sticky spaghetti noodles.
The words run like a rampant virus in my brain, spreading and infecting everything, yet the moment I go to write them down, it all retreats under a convenient mental blanket.
I stare at the lump on the bed in my head and I try to remember exactly what it was I really needed to have said.... but I am unable to discern the shapeless heap.
For so long I chatted you. I never thought twice about it when you started to talk back to me. My words may not have been all that different from your grunts, woofs, sighs, growls and whines. One of my favorite memories was when you began to kick the floor when you were impatient with me or someone or something. You would kick the floor, just like a child would stomp their foot. Even as an old lady, (when standing for any kind of time was not reasonable), while you were sitting on the floor you would kick your foot against the floor and woof! I am laughing right now just thinking of you!
Last November Sal, that last gorgeous warm sunny day with you... when I needed to be strong for you? That was the memory I kept replaying to make myself smile and be calm in front of you.
I have put that last day with you on my inner shelf. The one I keep things on when I don't know what to do with them. My inner shelf has been relatively uncluttered for a while and that day, sitting up there, nearly all by it's self, that day looks a little daunting.
I, fortunately, have my darling. A tolerant (although I tend to exasperate him) man, he has watched me mourn, held me close and poked me into finally painting again. We started going for walks together in the evenings, a habit I sorely missed when you were gone. I have bonded with our Charlie Cat; Prince Charles to you who are not on intimate terms.
I started walking dogs at the Humane Society in December after work. I was going every day and I would pick out two and take them for a walk. Maybe it is because I think of you too much but none measured up. They were not quite... sassy enough. Even when we first were together and we were both all jumbled up inside, you were sassy. Intelligent, sure, gentle, always and comfortably sassy.
Now it is January and earlier this week I met a dog. Rescued from a pound in New Mexico, she is a stray on an Indian reservation, she is about a year and a half old. She is sweet and nervous and excited and spooked and curious.... and I hesitated. I walked her and she did her best even with her fear of the leash and the cars and me and the place.
Afterwards, I talked to her foster human for a few minutes.
Around the 20 minute mark -Which is a terribly long and boring time to stand and wait for humans to do something interesting, this little dog despairing groaned aloud and sunk herself tragically to the ground. I looked down and found her bright amber eyes looking curiously into mine.
And my heart smiled. And today I wrote this out.
My sweetheart has adeptly picked the name 'Luna' for this little Muppet.
It is funny, the habits one develops without noticing. It was my habit to talk to you old lady. To talk to you about everything. And now, without you to talk things through, when I try to write them its just a messy knot of sticky spaghetti noodles.
The words run like a rampant virus in my brain, spreading and infecting everything, yet the moment I go to write them down, it all retreats under a convenient mental blanket.
I stare at the lump on the bed in my head and I try to remember exactly what it was I really needed to have said.... but I am unable to discern the shapeless heap.
For so long I chatted you. I never thought twice about it when you started to talk back to me. My words may not have been all that different from your grunts, woofs, sighs, growls and whines. One of my favorite memories was when you began to kick the floor when you were impatient with me or someone or something. You would kick the floor, just like a child would stomp their foot. Even as an old lady, (when standing for any kind of time was not reasonable), while you were sitting on the floor you would kick your foot against the floor and woof! I am laughing right now just thinking of you!
Last November Sal, that last gorgeous warm sunny day with you... when I needed to be strong for you? That was the memory I kept replaying to make myself smile and be calm in front of you.
I have put that last day with you on my inner shelf. The one I keep things on when I don't know what to do with them. My inner shelf has been relatively uncluttered for a while and that day, sitting up there, nearly all by it's self, that day looks a little daunting.
I, fortunately, have my darling. A tolerant (although I tend to exasperate him) man, he has watched me mourn, held me close and poked me into finally painting again. We started going for walks together in the evenings, a habit I sorely missed when you were gone. I have bonded with our Charlie Cat; Prince Charles to you who are not on intimate terms.
I started walking dogs at the Humane Society in December after work. I was going every day and I would pick out two and take them for a walk. Maybe it is because I think of you too much but none measured up. They were not quite... sassy enough. Even when we first were together and we were both all jumbled up inside, you were sassy. Intelligent, sure, gentle, always and comfortably sassy.
Now it is January and earlier this week I met a dog. Rescued from a pound in New Mexico, she is a stray on an Indian reservation, she is about a year and a half old. She is sweet and nervous and excited and spooked and curious.... and I hesitated. I walked her and she did her best even with her fear of the leash and the cars and me and the place.
Afterwards, I talked to her foster human for a few minutes.
Around the 20 minute mark -Which is a terribly long and boring time to stand and wait for humans to do something interesting, this little dog despairing groaned aloud and sunk herself tragically to the ground. I looked down and found her bright amber eyes looking curiously into mine.
And my heart smiled. And today I wrote this out.
My sweetheart has adeptly picked the name 'Luna' for this little Muppet.
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