Back for a visit.

Every time I log in to Blogger I see the last post of August 2010 and think about how not in the mood I am for writing anything down. No excuses. Just living from day to day and wondering what's the point? I started this process as a way to journal my creative endeavors, so that one day I could look back and see what I've been doing in my spare time.

I see all the many people on the net writing about keeping a journal to document their daily lives, to catch an inspiration, to doodle, to vent, to pretend to do or be someone or some thing. And, though I have a half dozen journals started, none have ever been filled front to back. I seem to live in my head a lot. Lately, it's been annoying me enough to get me to think about writing it or drawing it or painting it, just so I can clear our some of the recurring debris.

 This is one of the reasons I haven't been writing. Candy Chloe. 07/04/1993 to 03/07/2011. She was our "middle dog". She came from a friend who needed to find her a home and we took her in gladly to keep our aging and anxious doberman, Lady, company. Her joyful lust for life gave Lady many happy active years of doggie fun. She was followed by my brother's boxer, Liz and for a wonderful long while we had three large, barking, running, happy dogs in this home. Playmates for my husband and sons and constant company for me.

 Time moves relentlessly on and son's grow up and move out. But every day I had company for my morning walks and late night prowls. However, as everyone knows, time takes what you love away and in 1999, Lady died at 17 years of age. In June of 2008, Liz passed at almost 14 years  and now, this March, at 17 1/2 years, Candy moved on and joined them where I can not see or hear or touch or smell, or sense them anymore. In between all of that our three house cats crossed over too, and now for the first time in my entire life, I live in a house that has no pets at all. I grew up with dogs and cats and birds and even ducks in the yard. When I graduated from nursing school, I got my own apartment and immediately adopted two cats. Every time I moved, I took them with me. I was never without a furry, fuzzy, warm body somewhere in my living space.
  This is really, really hard. I am in a heavy hearted place of grief that has come at me unexpectedly. I never knew how deeply involved I was with each of the critters that honored me with their love.  I am not in a good way right now. Tears fall too easily when I am driving to work and happen to see doggie ears in the car in front of me. Is this heart ache that feels so very heavy going to lift soon?  I feel too sad to bring in another pet right now. I feel afraid. I don't sleep well. I am distracted at work. I tell my husband I feel sad, but some part of me is actually ashamed of the depth of this feeling of loss.
 I am holding onto my sanity by feeding the 25 feral cats we have in our yard, but that is a story for another day. Maybe.