Something Uncharacteristic of Self

Writing, I began to write after my dog Sarrah died.
For reasons unknown to me this became my way to cope with losing her and to absorb my time. Writing was never ‘My Thing”, I actually hated it while in school. After a year of writing daily I began taking classes, attending writing seminars and even started a blog.
It seems she led me down another path, perhaps one without an end.

Hollodays

Holidays can become hollow through twists of fate.

Thefts of Loss, inevitable and unexpected change these special days on our calendar for some.

While the growing annual marketing madness annoys most people, it is stinging reminders to many of a loss stained day, a holiday that they would rather not endure.

Loneliness gives these once fond days an ache, changing them into days of dread with a hollow feeling.

Perhaps we should all make time on holiday’s to quietly think about those who are hurting.

Eventually most of us will have our own turn.

 

Missing my Friend

Hardly any Focus

Breathing seems Difficult

 

Oddly the mind makes Time seem slower…

while trying to Absorb the Surreal

 

Feels like my Heart no longer fits in my chest

as if somehow Bigger, but actually probably Smaller, having another piece …Broken off

 

an all too familiar Mental Time-Out Torture Chamber

 

The Monster we Simply call Loss is Beating me again

 

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Cheers to you John Kelly

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I heard that John gave someone the gift of sight.  How awesome is that?!

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Time is a Thief

One day at the Beach House while participating in yet another round of Jack-Assory with Roslyn, Mike and Libby’s young dog, Sarrah slipped on the smooth floor and yelped.  She got up trembling a bit, favoring her hind leg.  In an instant the mood and her life, changed.  I massaged her leg and we kept them mostly apart for the rest of the weekend.  Sunday afternoon I took her on our last walk to the beach, for the weekend.  She was a little wobbly and I sat on a log, held her and wept.  I took her leash off (in violation of the law) and let her walk on her own, with a spark of energy from the added freedom.  She enjoyed the stroll, but was in pain and dragging her feet.  Looking back I was scared, afraid that Sarrah was near the end of her life.

Back home we immediately cut back on the distance of our usual walks from over a mile per day to just few blocks, as Sarrah was dragging her toenails and was (depressingly) happy to do less.  I was looking into all options like dogcarts, surgery, and whatever might be a cure or any method of preservation for my friend.  I desperately needed to find a cure for what time had done to her, to replace what was Stolen.  Around this time Sarrah and I had bodies of approximately the same age and condition.

I decided to try Acupuncture for her, as I’ve found it to bring much relief.  In some ways it would be easier for Sarrah to gain from it, as animal’s don’t have to ‘turn off the human preconceived mental junk’ in order to have an open mind.  Over the last couple of years I had read a few news articles about the growing practice of animal acupuncture and the successes with it.  Fortunately, the progressive culture in the Pacific Northwest is open to many forms of alternative care for people and animals making these treatments readily available.  Fortunately, I found a veterinary clinic nearby that offered acupuncture and began the effort to restore what could be, for Sarrah.  Initially she was nervous, a little scared and not trusting the surroundings of this new place that had similar sounds and smells of the vet clinic that she absolutely hated.  Shortly after arriving we met the acupuncturist.  This wonderful veterinarian, Darla Rewers was the first one that I recall meeting who seemed genuinely delighted to be with the patient and openly passionate about caring for them. Sarrah picked up on this faster than I and seemed to trust her.  It was determined that hip dysplasia, common for Dalmatians’ and probably a tear of some tissue was the cause of Sarrah’s loss of stability in her leg.  The initial treatment of just a few general points and a couple specific for her hindquarters was sort of an easing into treatment with needles.

Sarrah initially trembled and hated the session, but noticed improvement almost immediately and tolerated the treatment.  We went frequently and with each session the quantity of treatment points increased, she improved with each visit.  Soon she stopped dragging her toenails and regained most of her abilities, with the exception of having a trick hip and a need to avoid slippery surfaces.  We both, through error and trial, discovered many little things that Sarrah either needed help with (such as climbing into the back of the car and rug runners for slippery floors) or had to avoid completely (no more beloved games of tug-o-war and going down stairs, so I carried her).  I used to whisper in her ear while lifting and carrying her “Us old dogs, Gotta stick together”.

I shared some of Sarrah’s acupuncture experiences with my acupuncturist.  We talked about how gains in health and pain relief with animals prove that it is not merely just in human minds.  Occasionally, I also ‘stood on my soapbox’ and preached the proof based experiences that I have witnessed with this ancient method of healing, for animals and people.  It was a miracle at least to me, that the clock was turned back a bit for Sarrah.  A huge gift!

I started playing Johnny Cash singing “Hurt” for her visits, too.

it is about Freedom…

It came to me that it is not about Closure, it is Freedom, for her.

Perhaps I do not heal like others, or at all.

Heavy words like Loss are supposed to be followed by the equally heavy Closure in some kind of weight transfer on an invisible set of scales.

I cannot embrace Closure, but her Spirit deserves Freedom.

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This is what I wrote early Saturday morning.  I then poured some of Sarrah’s Ashes on the paper and carefully folded it.

Saturday March First Two Thousand Fourteen I walked alone down to the beach for a sunny solitary moment with the 0.9 low tide and ocean breeze.

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A lone seagull showed up and quietly watched and waited with me for waves to come and wash over.

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Sarrah loved it near the dunes so I’d planned to release some of her ashes here and found a surprise (a gift) near our usual trail end.  A driftwood bench has appeared since my last visit, so I put some near it.

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I sat on the bench to enjoy the view and absorb the moment.

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When I got up to leave an Eagle appeared on the beach and stood guard.

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Why do people carry books with them?

Why do people carry the same books with them?

Usually Bibles or other religious books, I assume, but why?  Is it to read, or reread when time is theirs to spare?  Could it be kept nearby so they can make notes on the pages when something comes to mind?  Perhaps to have it on hand to share with others, if so moved.  Maybe it is simply for comfort.  I’m not sure why and I’d never really thought about it, until Nissa asked me “Do you think your binder is a Security Blanket?”

I replied (after a day of contemplation) “Perhaps… It is a security blanket, but I think it’s more a need to complete it (with no rush nor deadline).  If I stop, it may never be restarted and remain unfinished.  The story is too important, at least to me (besides the time invested) and deserves to be written to some level of completion”.

This question and contemplation all came about because; from the moment that I began writing about Sarrah I kept a black pleather binder with me, at all times.  This ‘manuscript’ evolved with daily handwritten words, as they came to me.  Mainly I retyped it in the early morning hours, those when Sarrah would have been by my side, while my dragon waited and before the day cluttered my mind.  Then I updated it onto printed pages.  In the quiet, alone times often I just read and reread portions of my writings, reliving them in my mind.  Sometimes I simply kept it open to a picture.

I am lucky that I started writing about Sarrah when I did, otherwise I may have never done it. 

Equally, that it grew enough momentum to help perpetuate itself.  

I always wanted the story to progress… but did not really want it to conclude.