a moment
It's been one year since we lost Zelda. It's a weird thing, noting the passing of a puppy. She was hardly with us at all, it now feels like, and yet she was so loved, so amazing. When we visited Glo last week, we went out past the pastures to where we had buried her. We stood in the blue, shirt-sleeve air. Since Zelda's burial, Glo's beloved Pippin has also died, and his place is next to hers. Zelda's place is between horse Com and Pippin. It's a nice place, a lot of brambles. While I stood there, I could feel -- could actually feel -- the cold rain and the mud clods in my fingers and the hugs of my nephews. It was a replay and over in a second. That's what a place can do for you.
What a luxury, land to put our dogs in.
While I'm typing this, puppy Simon and puppy Annie "play" at my feet. Ferocious teeth and silly postures and occasionally my desk shakes enough that I have to grab my coffee cup. They need all my attention at the moment, or at least most of it.
They're not our children, not at all. We have human children. But they are with us and they need things from us and they give to us. I came down to the kitchen at the late hour of 9:06 this morning. Annie made it clear that I should sit on the floor, and she crawled into my lap and then defended my lap against Simon's attempts at king of the hill. It was very nice.
We have Curie's and Zelda's collars on one of the (many) bookshelves. Beloveds.
And we have these knuckleheads pulling on a 50 cent yellow squeak toy as though it is the only squeak toy ever made.
What a luxury, land to put our dogs in.
While I'm typing this, puppy Simon and puppy Annie "play" at my feet. Ferocious teeth and silly postures and occasionally my desk shakes enough that I have to grab my coffee cup. They need all my attention at the moment, or at least most of it.
They're not our children, not at all. We have human children. But they are with us and they need things from us and they give to us. I came down to the kitchen at the late hour of 9:06 this morning. Annie made it clear that I should sit on the floor, and she crawled into my lap and then defended my lap against Simon's attempts at king of the hill. It was very nice.
We have Curie's and Zelda's collars on one of the (many) bookshelves. Beloveds.
And we have these knuckleheads pulling on a 50 cent yellow squeak toy as though it is the only squeak toy ever made.