Alternatively titled: “It’s a PD day, there are younglings all over my house and I’m keepin’ the Bailey’s at the ready.”
Small things I wouldn’t have noticed had I not made the choice to “See.”
With three remaining brain cells, it’s taken a little more effort this week as the Black Dog still questions, “Is it worth it?” for each and every going-of-the-on in my daily life.
In my ultimately predictable end-of-day staring through the calendar that hangs on the door to the basement…I *did* notice something:
November 18th. It was this past Tuesday.
It’s really an important day, and I’d…as usual…totally forgot about it.
It was our dog’s 6th birthday.
Rose. 6 years old.
Rose, the Rescue.
Rose, the blind, half deaf light of my life who heals me like no pharmaceutical ever could.
She came into our lives right after she’d turned 4 years old. We didn’t have a Yule that year, because we’d chosen to have a “Rose.” 🙂
No one wanted her. Special needs dogs are harder, I imagine to foster, let alone re-home. She stayed on the “Available” list for days. The rescue was fraudulent, I’d later found out…and has rather tainted my experience, but we’re overcoming that and looking to foster, ourselves.
She’s perfect…just like me. And, by perfect, I mean that she’s got a journey ahead of her to heal from neglect, from health issues and from being just that little bit broken. (I’d actually had to clarify that to someone who thought I was pompous and tried to call me out for being a “prissy” asshole…I’m totally perfect, with an autoimmune disease that’s eating my internal organs and a side of mental health issues…way to pick on the dying chick, Asshat! How’s that for calling out?)
And so, she became my right-hand lass…and here’s what she’s taught “Me.”
1. Keep going. There’s always something over there ——–> and you won’t find it unless to keep going.
2. If you walk headfirst (or snout) into a bench, back yourself up, and go around. Blockages aren’t infinite. Find another way ’round.
3. There’s something to be said for the simple pleasures. A blanket. A heating pad when you’re hurting. Fuzzy socks. A full-on butt wiggle when you’re happy. I’ve been seen shaking my “I’ve-earned-this-ass” in the store to my favourite tunes. I giveth not a shiteth. True story.
4. Indulgences equate to godliness. My Keurig is my Goddess of Java*. Like I don’t have enough attention paid to carbs, sugars and proteins because my pancreas is an asshat an only works part-time, having Type II diabetes…I’ve worked my keister off and my blood glucose is well managed. Ergo, I have indulgences. Because I figure it’s either an indulgence, or I’ll be appearing on the News at 11. Likely, running down the street all cray-cray yelling at invisible unicorns. Or, Llamas. Whichever. Rose hearing the treat bag? I swear to gods her sight is restored as she bee-lines to the kitchen to sit all purdy-like and await the delicious whatever-the-hell-you’re-giving-me-and-I’m-going-to-love-it!
*did I mention today is a PD day? I’ve had so much coffee I can hear colours and see noises…
5. #gladitude. Rose “sees” a cat, and she’s happy (meaning, she’s run head-first into a rather annoyed and slightly hissy feline). Rose finds a crumb, and she’s happy. Rose figuring out how to scootch her butt up between me and my husband at night, and she’s happy.
When Rose arrived she was a gangly 18 pound, over bred, timid and scared little dog. We didn’t see her tail untucked from underneath her little bum for just over a month.
Rose is now 24 pounds of healthy, #gladitude-finding awesomeness. \m/
She is on a journey of healing, still.
That’s why we’re so perfect together.
I love you, “Painted Rocks Curious Casey’s Rose.”
Rose. My very own companion. 😉