Denial Denied

Wildfire.

Broken heart 💔

🌈

Packing up and moving my life.

And while it has now faded into insignificance — there was that whole narrow miss with the tree and the garage.

It is getting harder to pretend everything is just fine.

But dogs still need walking.

Harper B ❤️

And thank goodness for dogs who keep us moving when we want to crawl in bed and eat cookie dough 🙋🏼‍♀️

Capella ⭐️

Stuff still needs to go to the dump. This was the view from Trusty Rusty as I drove — there are fire crew vehicles everywhere.

I am trying to find ways to off load even some of the demands and responsibilities — that is what you do when your available Little Soldiers are stretched thin.

I asked my realtor for help — she found someone to do the post-move cleaning for me. WHEW. She also arranged the contractor bids for the garage. The repair starts on Tuesday, and insurance is covering it (less the deductible, of course).

Yes, it is currently a Cluster Fork of Crisis around here.

But I do not feel cursed at all. The Universe is not out to get me. I am just a human being living in an imperfect world where bad things — and good things — happen to all of us.

My job is get through this, and I will — but I think I will wear my newest Lucky Socks today (thanks, Carol!) for some extra support.

WTF, Part 735,078,317

Yesterday Suzanne helped me with my training arena. We sorted equipment into piles — some went to her, some will be moved with me, and some went into Trusty Rusty to go to the dump.

I trained with Claire in that space on Friday. She is entered in Open A obedience in an upcoming show, and with the help of Librela — she was ready to go. Librela let her jump well again.

Now her CDX will remain an unrealized dream — one of so many.

Grief makes us raw. It peels away layers, exposing what is real and true. There is vulnerability in grief and there is also power that comes from simply not having enough forks to give.

This is familiar space to me. I know what to expect. I know how to navigate this. I will be okay and I say that with both certainty and from a place of not okay right now.

In six days I will leave this house where I have lived for 15+ years.

A place where hopes and dreams both lived — and died. A place of joy — and profound betrayal and sorrow.

And now one less dog is moving with me 💔🤯

Claire and Capella

Sometimes we have to intentionally, mindfully compartmentalize and that is what I doing. I must finish packing. I must take care of my students/classes (online, thankfully). I must tend to my responsibilities. I must take good care of myself.

I was already doing this with a myriad of losses moving through the other experiences associated with starting a new life chapter.

I just never expected the chapter that is ending would involve the death of one of the central characters.

💔

A Broken Stay

My beloved, happy girl could not stay.

Her brave, strong, loving heart stopped beating last night.

Claire had a cardiac arrest following surgery for a bowel torsion. The surgery went very well but it was all too much for her heart.

Claire was the happiest, most joyful dog I have ever known. She LOVED her life. In fact, I think her motto was Life, Love, Bark.

The last three year have been filled with heartbreak, loss, betrayal, and disillusionment. Through it, Claire was a beacon of joy. A constant bright light in a very dark time. An invitation to find hopes and dreams again.

And we did.

The pandemic and then — I am not sure what to call those years of sickening enlightenment — were the context of Claire’s adult life, and it impacted what we could do together. I am tempted to tell you how much more she could have done — should have done — but the truth is, Claire did her job. Her job was me.

The last picture of Claire at home — with Sparkle

In the middle of the night I went to say good-bye to my beloved girl. I told her so many things. How much I love her. How much we will miss her. How I knew she did not want to leave me. How sorry I was that we could not have another comeback.

By the end, I just found myself thanking her. Over and over and over. It turns out that love and gratitude don’t leak out of a shattered heart.