a little info

about this blog...

first of all, i really, really want you to come back and read it again.  and i'd love for you to tell your friends about it, if you think they'd be interested.  it keeps me going, to know that there's interest in what i'm blithering.

if you chose to subscribe, it will not tell me who you are.  i apologize and i hope your feelings won't be hurt, but you'll just be a statistic.  what it will do is send you an email alert when i publish something new and soul stirring.

you can comment.  down at the bottom of each post, click on "comments" and it will open a window for you to respond, if you're so moved.  that would be awesome for me to have feedback.

if i've ever hurt your feelings, i apologize.  (just throwing that in cause sometimes i'm a clod but i mean no harm.)

peeking under

a heavy chair in my bedroom, i spotted an errant sock.  what i retrieved was, instead, a sock sized dust bunny.  so much for dignity.

one of the things about growing old is that priorities change.  you realize that you've got maybe another 10 years before your opportunities for expansion will begin to disappear behind some physical limitation, whether it's a broken part or just an empty tank.   the significance of sock bunnies is diminished.  do i care that my private space is less than tidy?  not that much.

i remember shopping in a big, fancy store in new york a couple decades ago.  i found this incredibly delicious pair of italian boots on clearance.  if i'd dreamed a perfect pair of boots, these were them.  they looked and smelled like burnt sugar, with brushed brass buttons that laced up the front.  they were a little bit sexy and a little bit prim.  i'd hungered for them my whole life, it seemed, so i grabbed like i was saving a life...i grabbed like a desperate fool.   the universe smiled its buddha smile.  they were just my size.  but they were narrow.  nothing about me is narrow.  well, i'm sorry, but, seriously...in the face of such perfection, who cares if they pinch! they were beautiful and affordable, so i crammed my shoebox shaped feet down inside them and handed over my plastic money.  wow, they hurt.  like cripplingly hurt.  they eventually looked great in my closet, gathering dust.

today, i could buy my shoes blindfolded and be perfectly happy if they looked like groundhogs on my feet.  all i care about is comfort.  my new style is most charitably called "broken in".  i barely bother to sort the darks from lights cause everything is faded to some shade of grey, anyhow.  if my hair starts to feel too hairy, i cut it off.  i've made friends with my old face and take it out in public, bare naked.  my priorities have changed.

i am humbled by my own imperfection.  my path is littered with regrets that have,  at times, walled me off from joy.  but things have changed.  finally, i tire of endlessly consuming myself.  finally i say, this body, this consciousness is only important as a vehicle by which i am able to experience the beauty of the world...define beauty how you will.

today when i went out to cora's shed, the sky was absolutely rockin' beautiful.  the early sun fell through the window onto the little blind pups in a golden slant of light...in a way that seemed too perfect to be true.  i remained still until that light faded and another filled my heart.  it felt a holy moment, meant for me to see and then to share with you.

corabelle

wants in the house.  now that we're compatibly walking off-leash with the pack on a regular basis, she heads off toward the back door, asap.  she's even used the doggie door and come into the garage.  things like that make you wonder what her life was like, before the shelter.

if you're wondering why i won't bring her inside, there are several reasons.  she has a comfortable shed with cross ventilation and a ceiling fan.  there's doggie door access to a covered, fenced, yard that will be safe even for the pups when they're old enough to do more than scoot out blindly onto the linoleum.  i could never re-create that for her, in the house.  also, she's extremely defensive whenever one of my dogs comes near the boundary of her little sanctuary.  it could get ugly, in a heartbeat, if that happened inside.  and finally, there's been so much upheaval for my dogs since i began taking in fosters that i'm reluctant to even suggest that there's anything permanent in this situation.  i'm hoping that corabelle and her babies will move on, without drama, to permanent homes after a while.  i don't want to mislead her heart or mine.

oh.  and if you're interested in helping me name them, there's one boy pup - who looks like a very mini rottweiler - and one girl, with little white feet and a white blaze on her chest.  they're barely as big as my hand and they haven't opened their eyes yet, but its the boy pup who keep scooting out of the crate onto the floor.  already an adventurer!

on another front, the little stray that i coaxed into the shelter is up for adoption.  they've named him Jefferson.  big name for a wee fellow.  he's a delightful little man.  snuggly and quiet with people but playful with any other dog he meets.  i do love, love him.

and Mr. Banks is still waiting for a home.  he's less grumbly when i take him outside now.  i won't say take him for walks cause he will only walk as far as the first shady spot before he stretches out, frog-like on the grass, head up, eyes closed, facing into the breeze.  he growled just once, today and it seemed like a mere formality...as opposed to some genuine dissatisfaction.  i'm planning on taking him to my vet monday, to have him checked over.  he just doesn't seem to feel very good and i want to make sure he's getting what he needs to flourish.  and i'm praying he gets enough time for that to happen.

the first walk

with the mom dog and maggie and the rottencockers went better than expected. they had been shouting at each other through the kennel fence for two days, so i was prepared for some misbehavin' and of course max, the supreme master of rotten, rushed right up to set the record straight about who was in charge. instead of cowering, mom dog snapped once and he adjusted his thinking.

after that, we cruised the path with speed and intention.  mom dog, now Corabelle, for maiden heart, took off like she was headin' for the barn, shifting my focus from what the other dogs were doing to whether or not i was going to remain upright as she dragged me, skidding, along the wet hillside.  i was tempted to let her off the leash, but some sensible adult part of me spoke up wondering how i'd feel about chasing her around the field for the unforseen future so i bent my knees and leaned against the drag.  i'm pretty proud that i listened and we all returned safely cause it was clear, after a bit, that Cora would have been quite happy to keep going indefinitely.

she was friendly enough when we got back to her shed, but as soon as i looked at the pups, she put herself between us...so i'm not pushing her, just yet, to let me closer.  but i do respect her technique - not threatening but not taking any chances, either.

i can't help comparing Corabelle and Maggie as mom dogs and i know that's unfair for a couple of reasons.  first of all, Maggie's perfect.  she just is. also, i had a trusting relationship with her before we ever left the shelter.  she was still a stray when she gave birth so didn't have Cora's compounded trauma of being captured, then locked up in the chaos of an institutional animal shelter for days before giving birth and losing babies in the loneliness of night.  and Maggie's young. Cora's old enough to be retired from the birthin', nursin' process.  that said, as i compare, at the same time, i resist judgment.  it's a wait and see kind of moment.

wanna help me name the pups?  i'd love that.  i'll post some photos soon to inspire you.  as soon as Cora let's me close.

so the new mom-dog

and her two little sausage pups that i brought home yesterday are settled in and once again i've demonstrated that it's pointless for me to have a plan.  i wasn't going to take another foster for a while.  i did and do need to focus some attention on my own crazy pack.  but she's a nameless, elderly-seeming stray who startled the shelter staff by giving birth in her kennel stall two nights ago.  not all of her babies survived and truth is, she and the other two weren't going to make it, either.  for practical reasons, they'd already been short-listed when i got to work that day.

i don't know this dog.  we have no established relationship cause she never made it to adoptions and volunteers are not allowed to mess with them till they've made that cut.  the most we can do is slide a treat under the gate as we pass and she was one who never looked up from her corner...never ate a treat or even noticed one.  bringing her here, with her accumulated trauma, was stressful for both of us.  she was frightened, restless and kept stepping on the wee babies in the crate, making them squeal pitifully.  i wanted to remove the pups to safety but i wasn't about to reach in there with the agitated mom, to get them.  i just had to trust they'd be ok which, apparently, they are.

the bad news is that the pups look nothing like their mom.  she's vaguely collie-like...brownish and fluffy. she appears touchingly vulnerable with her aged, white face.  the young ones are black dogs.  two sleek, shiney, whimpering little black dogs.  Godhelpthem.

i guess i'll keep you updated, as she settles in.   Meantime, i'm seriously questioning my own sanity.  where will this all end?  there has to be a limit and right now, this morning, i'm pretty sure i'm closing in on it.

did i mention

than Baby Girl got adopted?  after months of invisibility, all of a sudden last week there was a flurry of interest...folks responding to her photo online and asking to meet her.  she had two interviews in 12 hours and could have had a third, but the second couple recognized her as extraordinary and knew she would fit perfectly into their lives and they took her home.

the biggest challenge about fostering dogs is that you get attached.  it made me deeply sad when each of the little puppies left...i wasn't prepared for how hard it was, saying goodbye.  and of course, i couldn't say goodbye at all to Maggie, the mom-dog.  She's family, now.

with Felicia, i'd known from the start that she would do best living in a cat-free zone, so i had resisted thinking of her as mine.  at the same time i accepted that hers was a limited demographic appeal and that if she never found that "click", she'd be staying with me...so while i appreciated and loved her, while i wept when she left and while i still miss her sweet, powerful energy, her leaving felt ordained...that things were as they should be.

baby girl was different.  maybe cause i'd watched her, in the shelter and here at home, grow from a big, goofy pup into a young, peaceful, playful dog who was gradually revealing a beautiful old soul.  she just seemed to grow more wonderful, by the day.  so much time had passed that i was beginning to imagine her a permanent part of my life.  the sudden prospect of letting her go was shocking and i'll confess to you that if it hadn't been the best possible fit, i was prepared to protect her.  not sure how i would have done that, but i could not have let her go to the wrong home.

it was perfect, this one.  the young couple was perfect.  they asked the right questions, described what life would look like for her.  they cuddled and cooed her, walked and played gently with her. knowing they wanted a dog companion, they had spent a month preparing their house and yard before ever starting the search.  and they seemed to know that she was the one...the only dog they asked to meet.  she was, it seems, meant for them.

i've since seen pictures of her swimming in a creek, stick in mouth.  her new mom writes lovely things about how she's made their lives complete.  she will go camping, climbing, hiking, exploring with them.  she will be happy and fulfilled, respected and appreciated.  but, still, my heart is torn.

it was a blessing, baby girl, to know you.  i send you my love.

depending on how you spin it,

i'm either hopeful or deluded.  

in the face of certain distressing realities, i can get discouraged but i seem to eventually hammer the world into some kind of cooperation...so that i get to believe things will all turn out ok.  that i'm not just wasting my time on the planet, but actually moving some mystery a little closer to its fulfillment.  i seriously don't know what i'm doing.  i'm counting on the universe to make sense of it, some day.  

my plan to travel with friends fell through this past weekend.   i already had the necessities, i.e. a full tank and a critter sitter, so i decided to head up to the mountains for a little R&R.   i took off, alone.   but of course i had to go by the shelter for walkies on my way out of town and maybe you're not surprised that i left there much later than i'd planned.  that i left there, totally unprepared, with a canine companion named Mr. Banks.  Godhelpme.

Cat-like quiet but overtly little grey dogish, Mr. B looks something like a Chinese Crested...sort of lion maned head with big round eyes.  slick, shiney black bat ears.  He's a bit rat-ish in the tail area and the fur is possom sparse along his back.  then there's that slip of pink tongue that peeks out one side of his mouth.  To pile on more misfortune, he's not terribly personable...not happy or friendly.  He growls.  You can just be holding him and without warning, he starts.  he doesn't like to be reached for or led on a leash.  those things also make him grumbly.  But his ribs stick out and his hip bones threaten to slice through his skin, so i'm not judging.  I don't think he's got a lot of reason to like us.  

my thinking - what there was of it that day - went something like this:

maybe Banks could use a little R&R, as well.... 

it bucketed rain, we got there late, the power was off, the phone was dead.  there was the dank basement, the power restored, the screech of the pump alarm.  there was the prospect of two days without running water, except for the kind that was gushing off the roof.  i might have turned right around and headed home but i had my cranky little companion to consider.  i'd signed him out for a two day foster, so we made the best of it.  

as it happened, i was the more adaptable of the two of us.  i was willing to pee outside.  

Banks' attitude wasn't entirely positive about this new situation, which i'd somehow mistaken for an improvement over the kennel cage.  he didn't seem to be enjoying himself and i was disappointed.  here's where you get into that zen-master thing.  he was teaching me something about my own expectations.  i'd imagined that he'd be happy and that he'd remember what it was like to be playful and trusting.  and there were a couple of moments like that.  but after two days of peacefulness and gentle reassurance...two days of bountiful food and the chance to run around outside, he snapped at me...not just once, but twice before calmly turning and walking into his crate.  i closed the door softly behind him and never mentioned it again.  but something changed for Banks.  he got sick in the night and continued to have an upset g.i. tract the next day.  he was cooperative but withdrawn.  he seemed more sad than ever.

things improved when a friend stopped by.  he immediately took to her.  climbed into her lap.  wanted to be held.  barked at her feet for her attention.  responded to her call.  he'd done none of that with me.

now there's something i need to consider.  i've always gotten on with dogs sort of effortlessly and here i was extending myself on behalf of this one and he wasn't buying.  the easy, less humbling explanation is that i reminded him of someone negative from his past.  but maybe it isn't that simple.  maybe there's something i need to face, like the possibility that i was communicating my own selfish expectations...that i was looking for some change or gratitude.  maybe he felt like i was using him.  certainly that wasn't my intention, but dogs read the unacknowledged in us.  they respond as much to what we're about as they do to what we're saying.   maybe he sensed that i was after an affirmation of my own goodness or that my decision to bring him along reeked of a certain smugness...  

maybe he had the sense that, of the two of us, i was more the needy.

hmm.

talk about ugly....