Flo

Homer basset didn’t have surgery last week.  Considered to be “non-surgical” due to the other spinal issues he has, we brought him home and with medication, there has been limited improvement.

It’s surprising to me how much life changes in just a few days - we carry Homer up and down the stairs and watch him totter across the back yard, doing his “business” with the other dogs.  His positive demeanor has returned and he is pain-free. At times, it feels we’re living with an infant, which is different for us and all the while  Homer continues to be his warm, loving and happy self.  For this I am grateful.  We are enjoying his presence, his companionship and have to laugh at his ability to be so very joyful as his physical limitations increase.  This is a quality I’d like to possess.

He is a good friend and we are happy he is here.

Namaste’

The title - it’s the name we called Homer basset and Abbygail basset, the day we brought Homer home.  Tim asked me what we’d call them when they grew up and I’m sure I made some flip or sarcastic response.  The thing is, over 11 years later they are still the “basset babies” or “the babies”.  (It’s a good thing we didn’t ever have children - we’d have never let them grow up.)

Today, Homer is in the hospital.  He is in Denver and is likely to undergo surgery on Thursday.  I don’t handle this very well.  Married to a veterinarian, I am used to being able to be there the whole time, watching and observing, holding and hugging immediately following any procedure.  That is not the case this time.  It is hard for me, really hard.  There is some invisible sense of control that goes along with just being there and none of that is there right now. 

I am aware I am upset about something in the future and not right now, but that’s the case.  Homer isn’t sleeping at home and Wally basset wanders around looking for him. My feelings for Homer are immense, full, gigantic and enormous.  My love for all the creatures we share our lives with is like that.  Nothing much bigger exists.

In my head, I realize that there isn’t alot I can do - I can think positive and optimistic thoughts; I can project that he will be running around the yard in 6-8 weeks. In the meantime, my heart aches.

Flo

“When friends stop being frank and useful to each other,” wrote literary critic Anatole Broyard, “the whole world loses some of its radiance.” Make sure that doesn’t happen any time soon, Gemini. In fact, regard this horoscope as a warning beacon that motivates you to action. Intensify your intention to keep your best alliances frank and useful. Infuse a dose of raw candor into any relationship that is in danger of becoming lazy or dishonest.                                                             -Rob Brezsny

This isn’t the first time (nor is it likely to be the last) that I’ve written or noted Rob Brezsny’s words in my blog.  However, this week I find his words provoke alot of thought and go along with how I’ve been thinking for some time.  Things like the need to be honest in relationships and the need for others to be honest with me.  For the most part I keep myself out-of-the-line-of-fire, not being “called” on my actions-words-behaviors too often.  That doesn’t remove me from being a person that needs that in her life, that accountability, and I hope those who know me and love me clearly understand that is something I expect from them.  It should be reciprocal, not one sided.  Just the idea of it feels so freeing, yet I wonder how many of us allow for this in our lives?

It’s not an invitation to be broken down or trod upon, it’s the willingness to continue being human.  To be made aware of when I trip up or wander, which may cause hurt or pain for others.  In some ways it feels rather freeing.

Namaste’ 

On a weekly basis Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate prints “American Life in Poetry“.  This week’s poem is by Trish Dugger and here it is below:

Spare Parts

We barge out of the womb
with two of them: eyes, ears,

arms, hands, legs, feet.
Only one heart.  Not a good

plan.  God should know we
need at least a dozen,

a baker’s dozen of hearts.
They break like Easter eggs

hidden in the grass,
stepped on and smashed.

My own heart is patched,
bandaged, taped, barely

the same shape it once was
when it beat fast for you.

Enjoy.