Everything changes. One day I'll move all of this over.]]>
We all do.
Meet Amazing Grace O'Malley.
Formerly a pound puppy, she is now Shiva's little sister and the blog's new puppeh in residence.]]>
We lost Guile, and there was nothing else to write about. Every picture made me cry. They still do. A part of me hopes that they always do, though right now I am tired of crying.
Now we're in a different place, a beautiful place with a breathtaking view, and I'm having a hard time finding my groove again. I take Shiva down to the beach, and I hate the long line in every picture. I hate that I can't let him run and play and do his doggy thing while I stand back and wonder at his joy and spontaneity (and take pictures.) I hate that Guile isn't there, dammit. Beaches were made for big black dogs! Why did he have to miss this, and everything else that comes after?
I'm afraid that I've lost my groove and won't get it back. Which isn't such a big deal, really. It's just a blog. I just...I don't know. I walk on the beach with Shiva and my camera, and I wait, sort of. Wait for the magic that comes less frequently now.
Is this a part of grieving?
“There are places in the heart that do not yet exist; suffering has to enter in for them to come to be.”
(Originally posted elsewhere, reposted here for continuity and catharsis. I hope to return to our regularly unscheduled mischief and love vibes soon!)
I love you all.
other times you have to do a little work
to make them perfect
And you stay here.
I am a genius.]]>
We've found a lovely place, on the water and private but not isolated. Its charms are more suited to humans and dogs and cats than chickens, and we're looking forward to the peaceful, healing atmosphere of this little beach cottage. Shiva is beside himself with excitement, as he always is at the beach. I look forward to his exuberant and ecstatic romps in and around the water, and I hope that his joy at simply being there never wanes. His happiness is such a balm to my own heart.
Wishing you all peaceful places to hang your hearts and hats, and gloriously happy dogs to track mud through them.]]>
Two things happened the other day, one expected and the other a complete surprise, both of which brought tears and steps toward healing.
We got the phone call that we could pick up Guile's ashes. I have only the most wonderful and deeply appreciative things to say about the doctor and staff who did their best for Guile on the night that he died, but going back there was like ripping off a bandage too soon, and bringing Guile's ashes home seemed to only remind us of how much we had lost. That was the expected thing.
The unexpected thing came in the mail, a card from Wolf Haven International, telling us that someone, somewhere had thought of a beautiful, poignant and utterly, heartbreakingly perfect way to reach out to us and to honor Guile's memory.
Dear anonymous donor(s), please accept my deepest thanks on behalf of Siri the Wolf and my own aching heart. I simply could not find the words until after the tears, and then I realized that all I wanted to say was "Thank you."
To everyone who has sent messages of sadness and comfort, reminding me again and again how much we share, in joy and in sorrow, when we open our hearts and our lives - thank you. For sharing the joy and beauty that was Guile's time with us, for loving and respecting all animals, for extending a hand of comfort and friendship when we needed it - thank you.]]>