Erase

Erase

The plans, the dreams

flit into my mind.

Rub them out --

erase with my finger.

Need an app for that,

for my mind

and heart.

Falling

Falling

Delusion built the walls

Denial, the floor

Flood of reality

No footing

Falling

Liquid suspended

Liquid suspended
 
Inside

Tears run down

Filling me up.

How do I look solid outside,

When I am liquid suspended

Inside?

Blind Verity

Blind Verity

Light shines,

Blinding clarity.

What I cast aside,

So precious.

Verity, could you not see the truth?

The choice to give up, not try.

Praying to idols,

Shiny objects attract.

Blind.

Now through the darkness I see,

Verity,

What I gave up,

I collapse. 

Snap into place ...

Work in progress....don't clear the table.  Leave the puzzle out.  Move around it.  Come at it from another angle.  Maybe different lighting?

The edges are done...the center missing pieces.

Out of desperation, try something new.

Found a good fit.  A match.  Feeling better.... puzzle piece moving into place.  A very satisfying snap.

Still gaps.  Still holes.

But feeling more whole than I have in long while...

Still alive...

...ok, the puppy has not been the death of me.  But lest you think I wasn't writing because nothing had happened.  Think again.

Those of us who are pet owners have different relationships with our pets...mine have always been sort of love/hate relationships.  This week I have both regretted ever bringing Lucky into this crazy family, and felt like he was the only living being I can consistently count on.  Such confusion...

Lucky had his neutering surgery 8 days ago.  The vet said he should keep the "cone of shame" on for 7 days.  So, day 7, I took it off.  Apparently either thinking that it was ok that he licked his wound, because the vet said 7 days, or not realizing that Lucky has a super-strength-lab-tongue.  Within 4 minutes I hear, "Mom, there is red where Lucky is licking!"  Yep, he had licked right through the "glue" they had used and opened his wound.  Trip to the vet, brand new stitches and now he has to wear the cone for 14 days.

So, a coned dog is pathetic and sad.  But also dangerous.  I have bruises all over my calves, the plants are missing copious leaves and the girls' friends are afraid to come over.  Lucky tends to act up with non-family members - his latest move is to jump on the couch, cone first, and then turn around and sit on protesting visitor - all 56 pounds of him.

So of course I want to kill him.

But at night, when I wake up to my arm around him, or my cold feet tucked under him...he is the best thing ever.... I'm lucky to have him.

The death of me...

Ok, this adorable fast growing puppy is going to be the death of me.  I sit here, at 10:30 at night, soaking wet in my pajamas, wrenched back, twisted finger, even my hair is muddy.  Why?  Because my 50 pound crazy ball of love is terrified of sprinklers.

Yep, the pre-bedtime potty, so calm, quiet...peacefully looking up at the stars.  We had ventured into the middle of the front grassy area, on a hill surrounded by trees.  When bam - no warning at all, the sprinklers came on!  First one hit me square in the chest, then Lucky freaked out.  Started trying to pull away from the edge of the grass (there is a theme here), leash wrapped around me.  Wham.  I am on the ground, completely spread out on my back, wondering what happened and then get hit in the face with a sprinkler.

It is really hitting me that this fellow is not so cuddly anymore.  If I don't get some training soon...and dare I say it, a little "snip-snip"... I'm going to end up with a broken arm or something!

Who me?  I'm innocent...