I live for my dogs...as carnal and fleshly as that sounds....they keep me going. I was a therapist...a care giver and when that ended abruptly I felt so unnecessary, so over. They came into my life as needing attention asap, full of ticks being drained of life as I was, sucked dry and I wanted to stop the stealing of their blood and life source...so I yanked them off as disgusted as it was to do and I felt better as they felt better and we connected as two living on borrowed time, matted and so tied down we couldnt move...but together we were released..freed....I am is better around dogs...they appreciate the smallest gesture on my part and do not demand anything, other than whatever I have left to give them...my last bite...no even the first one...my last sip of milk or drop of ice creme, they lick the bowls and then they lick me. I live for my dogs and when they die, I die a little bit...I die a real death that needs resurrection...that needs to be zapped by an electrical current something strong to get me to want to live again...even if I have four or five other dogs...I have died for that moment, for that life that left me...I grieve and I mourn... I am not good at this...I can not be around death yet it surrounds me..reminds me of how bad I want to die sometimes...until I feel that colds nose nudge me and ask: What about me? Dont you love me? Now, how can somebody that love says they love me and knows me, not understand how important they are to my survival and say the dogs are what I need to get rid of and how they are stealing my attention and my life?
Posted on: Thu, 14 Aug 2014 20:58:24 +0000
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