If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?



Thursday, February 9, 2012

I had to put Doggers down yesterday. A car hit him and broke his little spine, just above his tail. Fixing him was possible, but iffy, and he was old. Yes, I cried, and cried and cried. I am still crying. No, you don’t understand. You would have to have learned to love as a dog does: pure, relentless, regardless—to be loved that way in return. You would have to take away your wife, your husband, your sons, your daughters, grandkids, best friends—every creature you know and care for, who fills your every day, gives you purpose and reason to keep on. You would have to be alone, in a quiet, empty house, far, far away from the people who are doing their very best to understand.

Thank you for trying.  


  1. trying


    at least witnessing you

    (your honesty and vulnerability - well, i wish it was contagious to the larger world.)


  2. Been there, many times.
    Many times said never again...
    ..but here I am doing it again.

    Cars are evil.

  3. I'm sorry, Steven. I'm really really thoroughly sorry.


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