Dog Tale

IMG_4775I was never a “dog person” until my former husband and I brought home a rescue we named Keilidh (pronounced kaylee.)  Six months later, we brought Tsuki (zookey) home.  The two were fast friends and are growing old together with Pete in Wyoming.  It was terribly sad to say goodbye to them.

Since then, (over a year,) I have felt a void inside that only a dog can fill.  My Mom has a dog, my best friend Christy has five of them.  Her Mom just got one, too.  I have been surrounded by mutts since I came to Phoenix, but it’s different when they’re yours.  There’s an implied level of responsibility; this creature depends on you for it’s well-being.

I went to the pound on Sunday and picked out a dog.  She’s a two-year old chihuahua mix who was named Oprah upon arrival at the dog pound.  Yes, I changed her name, to Winnie.  “Winnie” is a beautiful, mostly well-behaved but stubborn little girl.  She sleeps a great deal of the time and isn’t really into chasing a ball or tugging on a stuffie.  She’s great with every kind of stimuli that might potentially agitate a dog, like thunder, vacuums, cats, children other dogs .  She’s the polar opposite of Tsuki and Keilidh in so many ways;  they are reactionary psychotics compared to Winnie.  She loves to be held and only barks when I leave the apartment.  She has the cutest little howl.

You would think I’d be over the moon with this seemingly perfect dog, right?  I mean, I brought her home because she was laid back, but I had no idea just how mellow she really was.  Winnie wants to be on the bed sleeping practically 24 hours a day.  She doesn’t show particular interest in anything else.  I’m hoping it’s a hangover from her experiences and not her true character.  She’s sweet, don’t get me wrong, but she takes “chill” to a whole new level.

Here’s hoping Winnie strikes a balance between raving lunatic and practically dead.

*Update*  Aside from the complete lack of desire to play with toys, chew bones or engage in play of any form, Winnie is a real dog.  She lives for affection, food and sleep.  She is great with all people and kids (what a relief!)  She is nuts for men, in fact there a couple of guys in my complex she’s just crazy about.  So, It’s a tradeoff:  no playfulness for a wonderful disposition.  Now, to find out how she gets out of her crate, door closed…



for the ladies


My Heart Needs Your Breath, a digital illustration by Isabelle Dalle.

The longer I stay single, the more I want to be that way. In my youth, I couldn’t stand to be out of a relationship. Since my divorce, I haven’t even come into contact with many men. That changed when I moved to my own place a few months ago. This place is crawling with them, and my arrival hasn’t gone unnoticed. I’m nice to them, I don’t want a reputation for being dismissive or unfriendly. Striking a balance between being rude and maintaining boundaries can be difficult. I wonder when being kind will stop being mistaken for a come-on…

keeping up the pace

Group Walking_croppedI am no good at living by myself.  It’s been difficult enough to adjust to so much time on my hands since I moved to Arizona, but now I am alone most of the time.  The first month was nice; I read every day, watched movies on my laptop and met a couple of my neighbors.  The books have dwindled and I can’t sit still long enough to watch films.  The neighbors were evicted for non-payment.  I pace my poor, bare floor most of the day.  Even meals are taken afoot.  My mind is clear, this much is positive.  There are no ruminations as I pace, no anxiety or depression.  I have not gone anywhere save for the grocery and book stores because of this ravaging heat.  When it dissipates I will make up for lost time, spending my paces on going places.

Hands are the giveaway

20130731-010704.jpgI have aged so… I always thought big knuckles would be the dead giveaway that I was turning into my mother. I was right.

Only I hope she isn’t up at 3:30, drinking coffee. She would be a nutcase.

I am, for certain, a nutcase. I started this journal/blog to delve into my alcoholism. I wrote like I was on fire, for awhile. I lost my enthusiasm for recovery from drugs and alcohol. That’s when I lost interest here, I guess. I still want and need sobriety, but AA wasn’t doing it anymore. Maybe I just wasn’t doing AA. I think often that I need to go back, at least for the fellowship. One of my firsts posts here was on fellowshipaholics. I wouldn’t mind being one of those for awhile. I was pretty down on a lot of stuff back then, but mostly on myself. I can’t believe I’m even writing this; it’s getting better. So my apologies to any fellowshipaholics out there; it sure beats the alternative.