Tags: loss

small mis'able dog

The Weakness in Me

Robinson's death has hit me hard. Also, the general feeling of doglessness. I haven't been without a dog, except for when on holiday, for eighteen years. And only for brief periods in my whole life. And maybe I'm at the best of times a bit lonely, and a dog is a comforting Presence in one's life, even when it is old and infirm and sleeping most of the time.

So I did something a bit foolish. Yesterday, I went on the SPCA website, and there was a 4-month old pointer-terrier cross puppy who looked out at me and I kind of fell in love with. I stomped around yesterday and thought "no, it's too soon..." but this morning I thought, "ok, if it's still there..." and went down to see her. There was a couple ahead of me, but they decided against her. So I filled in my application. And the SPCA turned me down. For all the right reasons. This puppy has already had three homes and is already showing signs of separation anxiety. They want someone for her who ideally has another dog, and maybe in a family where someone will be home a lot. Also they were worried about my two cats, because this dog isn't proven to get along with cats. You know, and I know, that she probably would have been fine, and probably would have been a great fit. But they didn't know that, and I don't blame them. And as I told them, it's probably too soon anyway. But of course when I told them that I'd just lost another dog, I started crying. So I felt embarrassed for myself on top of everything else.

And now I feel even more bereft than I did before, because I'd realized how badly I want this hole in my heart to be filled, and how empty I feel now.
caped dog

My Heart is Aching

So, because our "Black Wednesday" film noir night fell through and will become "Black Tuesday" next week, lidocafe and I went to see Once this evening instead. It was lovely, but leaves me feeling sad and empty and lamenting my lost youth and lost loves and lost opportunities and ... sigh. Like Before Sunrise, it was for me like seeing own life flashing in front of me. Except that if it had been my life, I would have slept with the guy, but the ending would have been the same. So the girl in that movie was stronger than I ever was, even if she looks and dresses exactly like I did when I was twenty, only prettier of course.

So now, I'm at home in my study with my dogs at my feet, listening to the soundtrack for Once. My house seemed very empty when I came home. I shouldn't wallow. But partly it's a sort of Keatsian drinking deep of melancholy and partly it's just - you have no idea how lonely it gets sometimes.