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2009 June | Immolation Central

You Should Be Dancing

The little shaved patch on Guile's right forelimb is a memento of his recent hospital stay. He went to the vet lethargic, depressed, dehydrated and vomiting. He came home refreshed, rehydrated, examined, tested, radiographed and diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease. Now we begin the process of isolating the food ingredients that trigger his symptoms.

Our vet is AWESOME and WONDERFUL. So is Guile.

guile feels better

Sweet Morning Fog

Once in awhile something happens to remind you how tenuous and precious your world is, how delicate the balance that keeps you spinning in the orbit of your friends and family, breathing the same air that fills their lungs and crosses their lips like a secret kiss. The monstrous and delightful world crashes into the daydream that is your safety net. A baby cries. A war begins. A quiet shadow steals over the neighborhood and waits for you to move.

The morning sun crawls across your pillow to caress your tired face, and look: still here! Oh, love.

And he brought you a slobbery boomerang.

guile flowers

Round One

Remember when I said I'd fight you for it, take you down, rough you up, knock you out, pick your bones, pull some punches, pick you up, put you down, chase you around town, clown, cast the first stone, fight like cats and dogs, hazard your dukes, knock your socks off and put your lights out it's bedtime, bonzo!

Remember that?

skirmish whiteout

What I meant was - wanna wrestle?


Sometimes, you cannot have the thing your heart desires most. Sometimes, your life's longing must linger unmet, just a little while longer. Sometimes, though you can imagine your greatest happiness, your outstretched fingers cannot quite yet grasp it. Sometimes, you hardly dare wish for that one, that perfect, that singular, lovely thing of which you dream.

Sometimes, you have to wait.

guile desire

No Time for My Watch and Chain

These days I am busy getting ready to take my final exams and then take my leave of the vet tech program to pursue a more... philosophical ... degree. Right now I'm taking a break to hang out with these guys and listen to this song in my head:

our outside toys

No time left for you
On my way to better things
No time left for you
I found myself some wings
No time left for you
Distant roads are calling me
No time left for you

No time for a summer friend
No time for the love you send
Seasons change, and so did I
You need not wonder why
You need not wonder why
There's no time left for you
No time left for you

No time for a gentle rain
No time for my watch and chain
No time for revolving doors
No time for the killing floor
No time for the killing floor
There's no time left for you
No time left for you

No time for a summer friend...

I heart The Guess Who.

I love you all.

Hounds of Love

boys tails

Does your dog love you?

Every animal that isn't human seems to make fairly efficient and survival-savvy choices about who to hang out with, while we two-legged oversized neonates tend to romanticize ourselves and one another beyond recognition - how can we make smart choices when we aren't even honest most of the time about who we are and who the other is?

I sincerely and deeply doubt that my dog loves me the way that most people mean "love" when they say that they love another, human or dog. But whatever he does feel towards me, his company is honest and uncluttered. That means more to me than a word that was invented to fill the space between beings. I'm learning to be more honest myself, and to enjoy the company and the love of another person without the weight of extraneous expectations and the illusions created by the conventions that stifle so many possibilities. My heart is lighter for it, and I wish the same for you, reader person


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