The bird feeders have been empty for months. The lawnmower died, so the grass is overgrown. The mood in the house, heavy and stagnant—reeking of an infected wound that seems to have permeated every porous surface, its odor tattooed into my sinus cavity, forever intertwined with my amygdala, never to be forgotten.
Sweet amber eyes bore deeply into mine this morning as if to will me the strength to make it through another day, as if to say…you’ve got this. This precious soul, who I don’t deserve, whose existence has been an utter hell these last three months, gives me more than I could ever possibly give to her. Her love is perfect and unconditional. Her tail still wags and she still greets the day with lively enthusiasm of what will be—even though she suffers. In this, we can all learn a lesson from our beloved dogs.
So. Time to wag my tail and go greet the day, and it is beautiful.
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