(no subject)
Dec. 3rd, 2006 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oselleFelt pretty good yesterday after I got a call from a pug rescue organization about two little black pugs in New Jersey who need a home (yes, two -- they are mother and son). Felt really good, actually, but I'm having second thoughts about ever getting another pet when I think of Daisy in the last days of her life.
Not feeling so good today at all. Had an argument last night with my senile mother and angry father. He wants me to do this and that about my mother, like getting her to clean up the bedroom and also legal stuff that I don't know how to do and I feel like, shit -- he's retired, for Christ's sake, he's got plenty of time on his hands to make phone calls and shit. I don't. And I don't want to deal with any of this right now.
Then today my beleaguered toilet finally broke down for good and it's going to cost me about $200 to replace it and boy, I sure don't need to spend the money.
Went out for groceries and felt so tired I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Got a coffee but it didn't help. Came home and watched Harry Potter movies for the rest of the afternoon, immobilized in front of the TV. Wish I could escape to Hogwarts or Middle Earth or anywhere but here.
Last time I was in the animal hospital I was looking at the memorial wall where people had put up brass plaques in memory of their pets. I saw one that made me cry with the quote, "A little dog danced and the day began." Kept thinking about this all day and made the mistake of looking up the quote online. It's part of a poem that begins with the little dog dancing and ends with the little dog dying.
But when I first saw the quote, without even knowing where it came from, it made me cry because it reminded me right away of a day years ago when Daisy was only a few months old. We were visiting my sister up in Maine and Daisy and I were crossing a parking lot. I had just bought Daisy a new leash at a pet boutique in Kennebunk. And Daisy was skipping and bouncing along at the end of her new leash and we passed an elderly couple in their parked car. And the man said to me, "We were just so enjoying watching your little dog dance."
Now my little dog is dead, like the one in the poem and the day is over, like the poem too. I wish I could turn time back six years to that summer day in Maine when I didn't feel so broken down and used up, and when my little dog still danced, to the delight of all who saw her.
Not feeling so good today at all. Had an argument last night with my senile mother and angry father. He wants me to do this and that about my mother, like getting her to clean up the bedroom and also legal stuff that I don't know how to do and I feel like, shit -- he's retired, for Christ's sake, he's got plenty of time on his hands to make phone calls and shit. I don't. And I don't want to deal with any of this right now.
Then today my beleaguered toilet finally broke down for good and it's going to cost me about $200 to replace it and boy, I sure don't need to spend the money.
Went out for groceries and felt so tired I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Got a coffee but it didn't help. Came home and watched Harry Potter movies for the rest of the afternoon, immobilized in front of the TV. Wish I could escape to Hogwarts or Middle Earth or anywhere but here.
Last time I was in the animal hospital I was looking at the memorial wall where people had put up brass plaques in memory of their pets. I saw one that made me cry with the quote, "A little dog danced and the day began." Kept thinking about this all day and made the mistake of looking up the quote online. It's part of a poem that begins with the little dog dancing and ends with the little dog dying.
But when I first saw the quote, without even knowing where it came from, it made me cry because it reminded me right away of a day years ago when Daisy was only a few months old. We were visiting my sister up in Maine and Daisy and I were crossing a parking lot. I had just bought Daisy a new leash at a pet boutique in Kennebunk. And Daisy was skipping and bouncing along at the end of her new leash and we passed an elderly couple in their parked car. And the man said to me, "We were just so enjoying watching your little dog dance."
Now my little dog is dead, like the one in the poem and the day is over, like the poem too. I wish I could turn time back six years to that summer day in Maine when I didn't feel so broken down and used up, and when my little dog still danced, to the delight of all who saw her.