By 11:30 this morning, I’d said goodbye to one of my favorite people on earth, Leotha Douglas, and my new dog, Elvis Mearns. Leotha died in the early hours. It makes sense. He was a Morning Star type, for those of you real familiar with your Bibles. His impact on my life can not be overstated. He was extraordinary, complex, generous, and loving. His death is a complete shock as three weeks ago he wrote to say treatments were going well although he still hadn’t regained his appetite. Before I could recover composure for this news, our shelter adoptee began attacking my dog in what I mistook as rough play. It continued until Buckley had been pinned to the bedroom floor and was bleeding from his hear and chin. If I had to guess what happened in Mearns’s mind, he’d decided he didn’t want any other dogs in the house. We had no choice but to pack up his things and take him back to the shelter, which Michael did and mercifully spared me from having to see him go back.
Some days are like this. I used to think that when a lot of shit hit the fan at once they were all signs and I’d better start combing through my spiritual tangles to get sorted out so life could be smooth sailing, like it’s supposed to be (yeah, right.) Now, I cry. And I clean up dog hair. And I post what I feel like are fitting tributes to a man who was so spectacular I am relieved he didn’t have to spend much time in physical suffering, all things considered. I called my mom and brother because I needed to check on them, and I patched up Buckley’s ear and made myself some chai tea. And I kept crying until I stopped, but I will probably start again later.
The tropical storm finally broke, and it’s sunny again in Florida and humid as a jungle. Loving things is worth it. No matter what happens, loving is worth it and life goes on.
night night beloveds.