Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Evening hours with Chloe
Dad has taken Orion out for a long walk. I'm still trying to encourage this both for him, Dad, and for Orion so he gets exercise. "You're not allowed an ice cream bar till after you take the dog for a walk. I'd like to see you keep off the thirteen pounds you lost in Georgia and I suspect you've put at least seven back on," I say, as I wrap up the remaining leftovers of my dinner. "Five. I put back on five." "I'm just saying there are countless trails all over here. You could really enjoy the time here." So off he goes with Orion, leaving my old friend asleep on the floor. I discover I feel a distinct feeling of loneliness looming on my perhipery and I wonder if this is due to my best friend's departure. She left early that afternoon. Or, that I was passed out for an hour after work and once again I am left wondering about my life and how much meditation, how much positive affirmation and all that I am doing right now. I lay down next to Chloe. I rub her belly, "Hello Old Friend," I say. It's not often I can pay attention to her without a yellow lab licking her face, barking at me. Jealous. She wakes up, lets me rub her chin. She's like a cat; I scratch the sides of her cheeks. Scratch her face. "You know your story too?" I ask. "You were just a little girl, maybe three months old, sitting in a little cage at the shelter. Someone else wanted you, did you know that? Someone else had first dibs. Your little ears were bent over and you just sat and looked at us." I rub her tummy some more. "But we got you, and you got you to come home with us." I'm quiet for a moment. "I'll be forever grateful you were my buddy while I was not in my best space Chloe. I want you to know that." I rub her head. "You've always had the prettiest eyes Chloe." She's happy. She's just hanging out. The two of us lying on the floor. Lately I've been relating to her as I move slowly, as my legs take a bit to warm up in the morning, as I take my naps. She's low maintenance but I love this old friend.