1-20-14...Dog Days of Winter

1-20-14


Dog Days of Winter


My cousin married her young beau today.  He's an 'import'.
She brought him here from overseas, after they were introduced by a mutual friend the 'old fashion' way.  Love knows no modernisms, I suppose.  He doesn't speak the language and rolls his own cigarettes, but has a heart of gold and nurtures an eagerness for work.
It's good to see some things still work; no mater which century they originated in.
Theirs, was a civil ceremony.  Very "Sex and the City" and attended by only a few family members and close friends.   My daughter was one of the few, returning home with countless photos of the happy couple during their nuptials.
Such a wonderful occasion today and I never even left my house.  Not once did I set foot outside.  Albeit, I am still recovering from the flu...but the truth is, I really had no place to go.  Besides, this place is as good as any other to dwell in.  Maybe even better.   It's 'home".  A place I've plumped up with necessary creature comforts for myself.  An easy nest to fall into and fluff my winter feathers.
These are the "dog days of winter".  
The constant humming of the furnace, a reminder of the pending frost.  Everyday, some limitation is imposed on yet another outdoor activity I'd otherwise find pleasure in during the warmer months.
I wonder how much more I'd participate at 'outside' if the internet hadn't existed 'inside'.

It's been since Christmas -when in New York City, that I last dinned out.   Yes, it's been a while and somedays, doing what I do, feels like I'm churning on a rat's wheel, living solely for work and bills.  This winter's inertia has taken away the hope of fun things to come and my agenda stands empty.  Nothing has been added to my "to do list"...not yet.  This is serious kids. I have now crossed over to the 'dark side' of the season.
(It may be why I began this diary.  For expression. A place to run back and read to remember.)

And so another day has folded into night.  Soon, my whining will cease and this feeling of floundering  will have subsided.  I hope...

Maybe the sun will visit my wold tomorrow.  It's been a while.  I may even draw the drapes to let him in.
Tomorrow...it'll come soon enough.

ADM

1-19-15

1-19-15    "While at the shelter..."




It was last June, when Tasha, our 13 year old Rottweiler decided to stop eating.
Old age will make one do that, I suppose.  This was especially hard for me and my family, as she was our 'one and only.  A lady.  A grand dame of a dog everyone loved.

Tasha held on, never having a single incident, quietly lying about, waiting out the summer days.  But by early July, she had become too weak and I felt it was time to "let her go".  She was ready.
We invited a wonderful young veterinarian over  to the house and help us all make the painful transition. And so...on a cloudy day, while comfortably lying on the deck, our Tasha peacefully "crossed over the bridge".
It was all done with dignity and love and I buried her beneath a magnificent magnolia tree worthy of her time in eternity.  Within the hour, it began to rain.  (I imagined the moisture would help her root in the place she loved the most, our sprawling backyard.)

Tonight, a friend mentioned of a Rottweiler up for adoption at the same shelter I found my Tasha thirteen years before.
Dressed in black -to hide all obvious dog hair I expected to wear by night's end, me and my daughter pulled into the parking lot of the Animal Welfare.  The building showed activity with multiple families and people coming and going.  A good sign, I thought.

It had been a long time since I last visited here last.  A new adoption application was required before being allowed to view the dogs.  At times, the barking would crescendo to a loud shrill, echoing through to the waiting area.  I began to feel anxious.

Let me say this.  The efforts, care and time these shelter volunteers devote, is nothing short of God's work.  I was grateful for a gentleman named Roman that walked us through the many rows of cages.  Every bit of space, filled with sad eyes staring back at us.  The look of hope obvious as each pup thought they'd be the "chosen" one of the night.  Simple freedom just at the end of a leash. Right?

I chose none. I couldn't do it.  This proved to be an increasingly overwhelming and painful experience for me.  I couldn't pick just one, because I wanted to take them all.  I wanted to hold them to my chest and put their fears to rest.  I wanted them to feel loved again and help them "belong".


What an ugly world we have weaved my friends.  What have we made of all this "unconditional love and  kindness" that walks our planet?
Designer dogs.  Inbreeding of puppies inside inhumane mills.  Pit Bulls fighting for their lives against one another -while bets are placed on which will bleed first.  Shelters filled to the brim with unwanted life...waiting on cold cement.  I can go on and on, but I won't.

It's late night and I feel poisoned by it all.  I must try and detox, or daybreak may be hard for me  to reach.
I will go back tomorrow.  Because...it's only fair I give each of these caged souls another look, a scratch behind the ear or just a few words of love and compassion.  This time, I'll bring more treats along to share.
I make no promise of adoption, yet.  But what I will do is commit to another visit with an patient heart and a plan of giving another furry angel the chance of life.

What act of kindness did you commit today?

1/18/14...at home.

Sunday, January 18th, 2015                                                                             Palos Park, Illinois


(Some keep a diary for the memories.  Others to sustain some order in their life.  Me? I do it purely for my sanity.)

Battle Day #4 with the season flu.

Being house confined these last few (time-less) days, I am only too grateful to sprawl across my king sized bed, watching a marathon of black and white movies on TCM.  Falling asleep is easy in the peaceful absence of the otherwise frequent TV commercials.

Today however, I awoke with a better understanding of something else.  The necessity to surround oneself with (some) 'opulence' and 'creature comforts'.
After looking at the same walls and decor for countless hours on end, I am happy to admit that my house is indeed beautiful.  And I am suspiciously ecstatic to live in it.  Even during these rather ill circumstances, it has pulled me close and embraced me inside a 'soul' I helped create over our years together.

Everywhere I looked, a piece of (my) history stared back.  A collection from places visited or a times lived.  Or photographs and memories carefully strung together for a display in my own private life.
My home is...my sanctuary.  And the few invited to enter this "private" space, have often expressed awe for it's uniqueness.
My 'personal world' was never designed with the intent to impress, but to rather comfort me (in days like these) and to hold all that I find dear to my heart.  Somedays however,  I do wonder of what I shall do with it all, when this space becomes too large for me to dwell in -as I eventually seek a smaller life.

Though tonight, while I pace the dark mahogany planks, wearing my fuzzy slippers, I can't help but ask myself:  "where else has all  this been before, that now lives here?  Where will it go?".

It's late and the skies have turned black.  I hear the heat kick on more frequent now and I feel the night's chill increase.  I tighten the wool robe around me.  Slowly, I drag through the tiled foyer and cross to the library in the westerly wing.  A wall of river rock hosts a giant fireplace now empty of flames...and  I think to throw some logs in -if only to warm my bones.  Pausing, my body tugs back.  It craves more bed rest.
Maybe tomorrow I'll revisit more house treasures again.  And maybe tomorrow.... I'll behave less feline-like and not rub as much against my memories.  Besides, TCM's black and white movies are best watched from bed.


ADM