The Last Dog Standing

As we three get ready for the Greyhound reunion, I find that place in me that mourns the death of Omi who came with us last year, to stand with other ex-racer Greyhound families still devoted to these stoic, graceful, injured, funny and beautiful dogs used as gambling machines for ignorant humans. We all come together to experience "diving for hot dogs," the "50 yard dash," and "the longest tail" contest in order to bring some humor to the commitment we have to these exploited dogs.

Some of us are just plain folks and some of us are a bit fanatical yet all of us share the love we have for these amazing sight hounds.  For us, maybe today will bring some salve to our broken hearts just to see dozens of Greyhounds, reminding us of what Omi, Ginger, Rosie and Major were to us and that there are many still that need homes.  The "race industry" is diminished yet Greyhounds are still dispatched in cruel ways after their race careers come to an end.  We will be there to catch them and love them big.

For Jade, being the last dog standing in our home has its benefits, like sleeping in with "flea" on a cold morning in October before it is time to pile in the car for our next adventure.

Remembering Omi's Exit

We have done several things here at home, to mark the place where our little red tornado held us aloft and made us better humans.  At least, I hope to be.  Roses on her bed outside and her collar and leash on her bed next to Jade.  There is a great emptiness and that will last for a long time.  She exited a week ago and yet, I lose track of time and feel myself hugging my heart to stop the pain.  It continues.

A book I picked up again is a remarkable story about an amazing author and her journey though darkness.  I have picked it up through my parent's deaths, a divorce and too many dog friends.  I find it in my hands again, as I walk through these days leading into Fall, knowing that I may never understand what has happened to my life until something changes radically.  Omi's death has set me on my haunches wondering where that blow originated and how her dogness softened the edges.

"We cannot walk out of the darkness unless we are first willing to immerse ourselves fully in it. It demands a leap of faith, for there are no signposts along the way that will guarantee our safe return. There is only a dark tunnel, leading to who-knows-where...We know, intuitively, that we may never come out of the blackness.  But there is no choice, for to be fully alive, we must die with our losses. This is the moment in time when we succumb to death, so that we may live."
-Companion Through the Darkness, Inner Dialogues on Grief by Stephanie Ericsson

The Other Side Of Night

The silence surrounds Jade and I, as I sit on the couch, early AM before dawn, reading, searching the “spiritual” books for an answer after a night of restlessness and bad dreams. Omi is gone and with her, the light and the energy of her complaining and her joy.  Jade watches me with his black eyes in that white, Greyhound face, to see how I am, and I watch him, watch me and wonder, how long do we have together?

 

The silence enters uninvited as we reach Monday, all over this world, the working stiffs of our neighborhood, so full of SUVs and trucks and people plunging off to their important work lives while we sit here, at the corner, mourning Omi, sharp and true and painful , getting ready for our solo walk down to the creek.

 

My Omi 6/3/04-9/10/13

My dog,
 my self.
I greet your death with shock and remorse
 for all that I shall not live without you,
My wild, untamed Greyhound,
 quirky, joyful, disobedient, fierce, loving and
 sorrowful.
May we find a way to move forward and embrace
 our sorrow in this gap
where once you made us whole.
You were the light that shined here through the dark
 days of this interminable year,
your affinity for any kind of chip,
dog cookies,
"the snake",
frantic end over ends in the living room,
helicopter tail wagging,
dark, Cleopatra eyes,
sleeping,
upsidedownandbackwards Omifying,
in and out of the dog door revelry,
sleeping outside on your Limburger cheese bed,
sleeping outside in the dirt,
talking and complaining in your misunderstood language,
scratching and
sultry eye melting when we massaged you.
My dog,
 my self-
how shall I find peace without you?

What If God Had a Meetup Group?

In our northern California town, there isn't much happening and so often, it feels that all one can do is get outdoors and occasionally, find a good movie.  There is not much for me here that I want to keep and that is what so many people feel about the town they grew up in.  This isn't Ohio, but it might as well be just that.  It was time to move on three years ago and life kept getting in the way and then it all came down like a flimsy house of cards. 

However, I am of the mind to not give up on life.  We have tried a Sierra club group in Marin and felt very underappreciated, though they appeared to want new members.  We tried three different events that took about an hour and a half to get to and though we saw some great views, the company was pretentious and chilly.  Hmmm, not our people we guessed.

We have tried other contrived social events here in our own county and those felt very flat as well, disjointed, no connection with our peeps.  You have this little glimmer of hope and then you realize, it is just another party that is a flop.  It is where we are and it could easily be somewhere in the Mohave or Ventura or Riverside or Modoc county with worse weather. 

I tried yet another attempt, on my own, at a local Meetup group-the new trend for people forced together by a common interest or desire at a specific place and time. When I showed up for the movie and ready to meet "my people," I could not figure out who they were since they didn't have a little cardboard sign like at the airport! The film was some kind of art piece that was troubling and compelling but not exactly a social lubricant. I left after the film with some other strangers, who were not apparently my Meetup group, and we chatted about our take on the hideous film. Nice people.

The following day, I received email remarks spun off by the Meetup website that said, in bold letters-GREAT TO SEE YOU!  I thought to myself, huh?, did I see you? Ah, a slight of hand or rather, a computerized message generated by a website that recognizes that you registered for an event and gosh darn it, they want to thank you for showing up.  Huh, did they show up and I just missed them?  Weird.

I began to think about the ramifications of all of this, in regards to our disassociation from one another and Meetup groups and fake "GREAT TO SEE YOUs" and the universe.  The mystery, the universe, the space in between, existential thoughts on connection and loneliness. We are so "device" oriented and so separate that we need to create events to pretend that we are connected.

 I wondered if God had a Meetup group, would God announce "god's self" with a small cardboard sign and would God generate a big "thank you" even though God stayed home to wash God's hair and never showed up at the event?  I wondered.  I wondered some more.

The Life You Save May Be Your Own-8/2/2013

My fork in the road has come. A country, gravel road off of the main highway that was not marked nor even slightly worn as things began to push me towards the turn that I made a month ago.  I suppose, if I had been more inside my body and relaxed, the choice would have been obvious and natural, maybe almost an afterthought. Running out of gas was not something I planned on that day.

Yet like so many things that I have attempted in the last almost three years, the next turn appeared like a diamond in the rough. Funny thing though, the polish on that stone was a simple patina from China or Vietnam, somewhere they exploit poor people for sure.  The coating cracked easily under pressure and the color was off, way off actually.  I could see the fake underneath the edge as I stepped forward into yet another job in another town. 

Everyone has a story and so do I.  Six jobs in three years took me to the brink of despair and I had no more answers or faith or will to go on. I wanted to be gone.  I could no longer blame bad job choices or just the disappointments inherent in seeking a way to earn a living on those employers. I have been a part of those choices and yet, I could not have done anything much different.  When I veered off of the main highway, I thought I might not live through this.  I still wonder.

I sought help and some came through though qualified.  So much energy is lost to the ground and I am a mess most days.  Somewhere in there, a small, somewhat still voice mentioned that I could focus on what works and move slowly and try to find out where my light was snuffed out and relight the torch.  This is just an idea and I shall finish it and learn some things along the way.  This will be a journey and I am my only company.  I am going to find the main highway but I am in no rush to do so.  Maybe just maybe. As Dan Pallotta tried to tell us, "Your moment will come."

For now, I am training to run the Iron Girl 1/2 Marathon in November and the Austin 1/2 in February of 2014.  I find myself and my breath and my effort way out there as I run my way to health and hopefully back to sanity after coming close, so very close to calling it quits. The life I save may be my own and that makes it worth the effort of a lifetime.

Little Old Laundry Man

If a writer's soul is her writing itself, mine surely has been frozen in time somewhere in July.  The 80,000 some odd thoughts continue to spin in my head daily like other humans, but nothing to very little on paper or even a coffee shop napkin.

I have been trying to save my own life and that has taken more effort than my writing can handle.  Maybe I am not a writer.  Maybe I am just someone who can write.  It is as if it comes naturally yet it only comes when I am connected to that soul or self I perceive to be me.  For the past two months, that me has been in peril which took all of my attention. 

We took a little toodle north to Mendocino County this week to my beloved Mar Vista and "Rosie's Beach."  A quick two night stay costs much more than it did in 1987 when I first laid eyes on that sweet spot of earth and sky. However, it was well worth some savings from my last dead end job this summer.  I can say that I was glad to be there and we had some unusual hot weather with a chillingly calm ocean that seemed to say that all waves were sent somewhere else.  Eerie  a bit.

We met several great dogs on the beach-Kai, Dave and Ike.  So different from the aging Greyhounds we live with and dogs having fun in the sand, surf and slop of "Rosie's Beach."  I had a harder time feeling the joy which I usually do walking with my toes in the sand and I tried, I really did.  I just watched and breathed and focused on everything I saw.  I drank a lot of tea and tried to not worry about our dogs at home, or my life, or our lives.  I did manage to just be for the most part. 

Mar Vista has a new gardener though we did not know that as I sat in front of Cottage #1 in one of the weathered chairs drinking ginger ale and watching the sky change.  I was there quite a while just doing more of that being, when a black dog rounded the corner of the chicken compound and jogged towards me.  I watched, doing more being, and began to ask her who she was.  She had a tennis ball in her mouth and no collar.  Wonderful coco colored eyes met mine and a wagging tail.  She dropped the ball at my feet.

We began to play ball and I thought, where did you come from and who is your person?  She had been to the beach I could tell and she was such a sweet girl.  I kept asking her and began to worry.  I began to plot taking her home if someone had mistakenly lost her.  What a great dog I was thinking.  Eventually she tired and stood looking towards the Mar Vista enclosed garden with the ball in her mouth.  I asked her if her person was up there and she stood staring.

Eventually, the gardener appeared and her ears laid flat to her head and she began to wag her tail.  As he came towards us the wagging increased and we found out that Sadie is Patrick's dog who waits for him while he works.  I relaxed. 

I really enjoyed Patrick's story of living in urban settings as he works his way up the coast of California in life.  He knows all about the milky way that shows up in the sky above where we chatted.  He lives in the country and farms and works at Mar Vista.  Lucky, smart man and lucky, smart dog.

We had to say goodbye to Mar Vista today and I know that this last visit was farther apart than the last because of the hardships we have faced in the last two years.  However, that graceful spot of earth still holds a healing power even if I am not healed.  I was glad to be coming home to our old dogs and worried especially about Jade, who just gets whiter every day.

Having unpacked, washed the Mini, and done some laundry, I began to hang it outside to dry as our little old laundry man sauntered towards me as is his routine to observe, sniff and pause for more petting upon his diminishing, skinny old man self. Glad to be home for another day of living.

Thank you Mar Vista, I needed that!