Friday, September 5, 2014

Thoughts

Jessy was quiet last night. This morning it was hard to arouse her.  She finally stood up and came to the door.  Alone.  There was a sadness on her face I had not seen.  Until now.

She coughed last night and it has continued intermittently this morning.  Walking is becoming more difficult for her.  Her life and Molly's were contained.  They never ran free, were always secured either in the gated back yard, anchored in the car or on a leash.  They did run free in the woods where I live with me close by.  Always.

The wood floors near the garage door reflect Jessy's competitive ways.  Deep ruts, almost looking like a bowling alley. They are noticeable.  Part of our history together. But that is what a home is.  It reveals the natures of the people who live in it.  Their passions, likes, dislikes, interests.  For now,  I just want to love the last of my dogs.  Fully. The stools reveal puppy teeth marks from Molly's first few months.  I adore them and wouldn't...won't change them. 

Jessy has been coughing this morning.  Her breathing becomes more labored and her oversized heart pounds.  Until she falls asleep and then it is barely noticeable.  Sometimes I think she is like a bear beginning hibernation.  But I know better. 

I'll see how she does this morning.  I may even call the veterinarian if the breathing challenges continue.  She is under a lot of stress having witnessed her sister's seizures. Molly's passing yesterday.  She is sad.  Lonely.  Lost.

I've been thinking a lot about being lost recently. Being in unfamiliar territory.  Last night, I dreamed about a burglar.  People breaking into my home. There were several burglaries in my dream and I came face-to-face with all of the burglars.  None of them were violent.  They just wanted things.   They even talked about them.  Why they had to look outside of themselves for what they could access within. 

We all want things.  We fail to appreciate, have gratitude for all we receive.  It isn't in things, though we do enjoy them, but it is more about the people in our lives who offer us so many learning experiences.  They make us examine how we are. Come clean with ourselves about what is really going on.

Lately, I have thought about whether I feel safe now.  My dogs were always a warning system.  A thermostat.  A reminder.  But the dogs were not in the dream.  Though sadness about losing them was heavy on my sleeping body. 

Calls from three New Hampshire friends last night made me reflect.  Maybe that is why memories of my eighteen months in the apartment in New Hampshire were so vivid. Delicious.  They were wonderful memories, highlighting the best of our experience.  Friendships.

As I awakened this morning, I thought about all the ways we feel and don't feel safe. What we fear and the journeys necessary to move beyond the fear.  Holding my dying dog was none of that.  It was an extraordinary moment to love and honor her.  To ease her passing.  I am in gratitude for all of that.

I continue to be amazed at the comments left for me in e-mails, friends calling on the phone, text messages and Facebook comments both as public and private messages.  Endearing ones. 

We are lucky to be in a community of lifetime friends from all over North America.  Maybe it is the stage we are in where we have the time, take the time to connect more with our hearts.  The heartfelt comments and friendship are so appreciated. 

Thank you all for being there for me. 

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