You're the best, around!
Something really...different is happening. I had the realization yesterday. I've never seen myself reflected back so much in another being. Kestrel has my heart, of course, she has from day 1, and so do many others, but I think she has my soul as well.
Could be the long nights we've spent together over the past five days. The night after surgery she screamed and tried to get her cone off for hours, I layed in bed with her restraining her legs and head and singing her songs until she would fall asleep for 30 minutes? Maybe an hour. And the cycle began again. She likes Simon and Garfunkel and the song from the Karate Kid.
You're the best, around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down.
Last night, she slept soundly. Every day will get easier, every day, every day...
Yes, we share a personality, and hard times certianly reveal them. We both have moments of happy, calm, fun. And in a second it can turn to screaming, crying, frustration, anger. We work ourselves up into a fury and then crash. We can take a long time to warm up to new things, but we're not afraid.
People keep telling me she looks like my dog, it's a funny thing.
(thanks again for the amazing photos, Heather!)
In 2008 I was 15, a freshman in highschool. Lonely, anxious, depressed, although those are words I can only use in hindsight. More than anything I wanted a dog, a dog that could fill some hole I felt I had in my life. What I got was Panic, and Panic didn't come to me to fit seamlessly into that role. He came crashing into me like a semi truck, clumsy and stubborn and destructive. He taught me patience, compassion, perservearance, and unconditional love. He was not the dog I wanted but I stubbornly held onto him and we slowly crept forward into the world together. I learned who he was, and he learned who I was. But in many ways it still feels like we're trying to figure each other out. I love him, oh man do I love that dog, and he loves me back, but he really isn't mine. Never was, never will be.
Kestrel is different. For one, I am not 15 anymore. That helps (a lot of things). I have no expectations for her, I have no role for her to fill in my life. And she fit, seamlessly, from the moment I saw her.
It's true, I was worried about how another dog might fit into thing. A lot of things have changed since I was 15, but always, always, there has been Panic. Our relationship is familiar and comfortable. How could I ever let another dog into our world? But there's no conflict for me, Kestrel feels like she's always been here with us--although the logistics of owning two dogs still needs to be worked out more.
This is a new chapter in our lives in many different ways. She is not here to fill a role, she is here to become herself in whatever way that means, and Panic and I will both have to expand to encompass her in our little world. It's true I have no expectations for her. Instead I have a feeling, an overwhelming feeling of truth, that she's going to do big, amazing things in her life. But first, lots of healing...
Could be the long nights we've spent together over the past five days. The night after surgery she screamed and tried to get her cone off for hours, I layed in bed with her restraining her legs and head and singing her songs until she would fall asleep for 30 minutes? Maybe an hour. And the cycle began again. She likes Simon and Garfunkel and the song from the Karate Kid.
You're the best, around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down.
Last night, she slept soundly. Every day will get easier, every day, every day...
Yes, we share a personality, and hard times certianly reveal them. We both have moments of happy, calm, fun. And in a second it can turn to screaming, crying, frustration, anger. We work ourselves up into a fury and then crash. We can take a long time to warm up to new things, but we're not afraid.
People keep telling me she looks like my dog, it's a funny thing.
(thanks again for the amazing photos, Heather!)
In 2008 I was 15, a freshman in highschool. Lonely, anxious, depressed, although those are words I can only use in hindsight. More than anything I wanted a dog, a dog that could fill some hole I felt I had in my life. What I got was Panic, and Panic didn't come to me to fit seamlessly into that role. He came crashing into me like a semi truck, clumsy and stubborn and destructive. He taught me patience, compassion, perservearance, and unconditional love. He was not the dog I wanted but I stubbornly held onto him and we slowly crept forward into the world together. I learned who he was, and he learned who I was. But in many ways it still feels like we're trying to figure each other out. I love him, oh man do I love that dog, and he loves me back, but he really isn't mine. Never was, never will be.
Kestrel is different. For one, I am not 15 anymore. That helps (a lot of things). I have no expectations for her, I have no role for her to fill in my life. And she fit, seamlessly, from the moment I saw her.
It's true, I was worried about how another dog might fit into thing. A lot of things have changed since I was 15, but always, always, there has been Panic. Our relationship is familiar and comfortable. How could I ever let another dog into our world? But there's no conflict for me, Kestrel feels like she's always been here with us--although the logistics of owning two dogs still needs to be worked out more.
This is a new chapter in our lives in many different ways. She is not here to fill a role, she is here to become herself in whatever way that means, and Panic and I will both have to expand to encompass her in our little world. It's true I have no expectations for her. Instead I have a feeling, an overwhelming feeling of truth, that she's going to do big, amazing things in her life. But first, lots of healing...