Pic of Kora (a dog I sit for) a few months ago, as she watched the night descend on her Autumn yard. I’m a “seasonal affective disorder” kind of gal so Autumn is always hard for me. The days get noticeably shorter and, here in Utah, things visibly prepare for a harsher reality. It’s all about to get very real. So on Winter Solstice, even in the middle of cold and snow, I celebrate, for the end of the growing darkness giving way to more light each day is like being wakened to a mesmerizingly-slow dawn, where you know the sun will be coming and that the things that you thought were dead will again rise up from the ground to meet you. And my moroseness during Autumn is an appropriate sacrifice in order to honor our beautiful planet. Because there is darkness and death but there will also be cleansing and Spring, for “the darkest day of the year”
Saturday 11/25, 9:53 a.m., Salt Lake City. It’s hard to know what to do with the grief of this world. I look at this man and his dog and feel the pressure of disappointment on both his heart and my own; I can feel the loss of the dream he had for his own life and experience that loss with him. For I don’t move about my world so as to push it away from me; I welcome it to settle within me and become part of my experience; I let it teach me and humble me so that I can grow more each day in understanding and perhaps one day maybe we humans can be a collective, empathic, love-filled whole again.
[FB post from yesterday, 8/27] This morning at 5:04 AM I got an email via my yelp account from a recently-homeless woman who wanted to get a quote on how much it would be for me to board her two “beautiful” adult cats in my home. It was already a weird morning because my friend Graham sent me a link to my old Garfield house which is now for sale again and seeing the interior sterility and the back yard–which the summer after James moved in 2007 was the site of a “healing through manual labor and sunburn”–with its huge tree gone and most everything I planted looking dead really put the punctuation on the end of that chapter in my life. It was the punctuation you typically see after “you stupid fucking idiots; what the actual fuck.” And so it was that I started my day. Sunday. An easy work day before the madness starts up tomorrow and moves
[I’m a pet sitter in Salt Lake City, and Kora is a malamute/chow/samoyed I’m tending]. The pic is of Kora and I the other night, taking our moment to just “be” because Kora is new to pet sitting, was slightly anxious at first and in the week I’ve sat her, i’ve learned that after our walks, she likes to just vibe with her neighborhood. And the effort means I go over the time I’m being paid for and even though these people have told me to charge them for this, I never would, for to my mind, I never want to live a life wherein an act of kindness was somehow required to be compensated externally and when my heart says that something is the right thing to do, I want to listen to that, and make space for Kora, enjoying her company for the sake of no other reason except that I want her to know that she’s
[I’m a pet sitter and the above picture is Sophie–a Siberian Husky I’ve cared for many times–who took a turn for the worse while I was sitting for her and, in dramatic fashion typical of this charismatic girl, her last day on earth was spent with her parents racing back from their honeymoon–driving all night–in order to get to her, after which just a few hours later–time they said was wonderful–she collapsed and died peacefully. I knew they’d get back in about 2:30 a.m. so during my evening visit Tuesday night, I said goodbye to her, and told her that in whatever world she ended up in, to come see me, for I’ve known her in better times, and long for her to walk and eat and prance and do her barkbeg for treats, and maybe even keep stealing her sister Greta’s chewies and hoarding them in her bed, and walked away in tears, hoping she would come see
(For people who don’t know me irl, I somehow very circuitously became a pet sitter–someone who takes care of animals in their homes while they’re family is away–as my primary occupation. This post is about one of the families I tended for and that is me in the photos above). I had to stop sitting for these guys because they had moved to Sandy (I’m strictly Salt Lake City) but if I ever write a book, I’m going to contact Luna’s human to include her story. I don’t know what motivates some people to nurture what is not easily nurtured. Her new owner didn’t know if Luna could be rehabilitated–didn’t know what would happen, was unsure what would come of her effort–but Luna’s story pulled her into a situation wherein, at once, she was faced with the daily acceptance of knowing Luna’s ugly story at the same time as she realized that making a life with Luna would be
[179words, 53 sec; humor, pets]
A pet-sitting client got this book for me–a bit of an inside joke–and I laughed pretty hard, and then bored my daughters with, “Oh, girls! Listen to this one.”
[240 words; 1 min 12 sec; humor, pets]
We recently got a new vet who comes to the house because it was either that or enroll in vet school so I could treat her myself.
Because Maddie–my geriatric German Shorthair Pointer–has always been neurotically…