Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Tuesday gratefuls: Dr. Josy. Audrey. Shadow’s ear. Marilyn and Irv. Kate, always Kate. Joy. Ahava. Good friends. New friends.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Prairie Grasses

 

Kavannah: Areyvut. Mutual responsibility.  All humans are accountable one to another.

Tarot: eight of bows, hearthfire.  Tend to the fires I have already lit.

One brief shining: Shadow of the morning. Vitality. Tail wagging. Ready. A day, take any day, dawn to the first three stars in the sky. My day starts long before the sun appears and ends near dusk. Shadow time.

 

Early mornings belong to Shadow and me. Quiet, sheltered. No cars hissing by on Black Mountain Drive. No barking dogs. Writing into the void of a blank screen. Telling myself a story.

Shadow has breakfast, goes outside. Comes inside sometimes  with no invitation. On her own volition. For Shadow though. It’s not usual. Reluctance. A while ago. Occasional refusal. After boarding school? No refusals.

Later. Breakfast with Marilyn and Irv. Primo’s, our usual spot, suddenly closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Aspen Perks.

Aspen Perks used to be packed in the mornings. Not now. Empty booths, chairs. I hope it’s a seasonal thing. None of the three local breakfast spots have gourmet pretensions.

Back home around eleven-thirty. The neck brace helped. Some. Very far from ideal.

Shadow would occupy the afternoon. She had been scooting her head, ear to the floor. Oh. I know this. Ear infection. I texted Dr. Josy. Whom I missed seeing after her frequent visits during care for Shadow’s cut right leg.

She came with her daughter Audrey. Before she examined Shadow, she asked about my health. The clinical trial. She understands the medical side. Healing.

After weighing Shadow, 36 pounds, Audrey held her down while Dr. Josy got out the otoscope. Right ear. A bit of wax. Nothing remarkable. Left ear. A ruptured tympanic membrane and some foreign body lodged deep in the ear canal. Not an ear infection.

Dr. Josy took Shadow home with her. Sedation required to clear the object from her ear.

After Dr. Josy left, the house went still. No Shadow. No paw requesting my attention. Rubber tires rest where she left them. I felt alone.

This morning, as I write, the house still feels empty. I miss Shadow coming over, sitting in front of my chair, staring at me. Her expressive face serious. Understand me, human.

Communication. We humans use words, too. They’re our paw to the leg. Marilyn and I dissected the latest on the Iran war. Our paw to the leg for each other. Debated the comparative venality of Trump and Netanyahu. Over breakfast. Confirming, again, our friendship with our presence. With our shared political views.

The life of March 22nd. Shadow. Writing and revising. Our morning. Time with friends. Time with Dr. Josy and Audrey.

Shadow away.
Missing her.
An empty house.