Healing

Black Dog, Vegas and I are still alive and well in Iowa. It's been a long time since I've written. I have wanted to write but whenever I sat down at the computer, I lost my voice, lost my way.

You see, when our sweet Molly died, Sadie found us only ten short days later. In my grief, I was determined to not become attached. This was not a conscious thought - I'm not the evil queen in some remote corn field. Rather, I found myself petting without thinking, not really playing, deferring to the other humans for the attention giving and walking. Sadie, wise like most dogs are, understood and gave me the space and time that I needed.

Sadie would curl up at the foot of the bed, on my side, and stay down there. After months of this behaviour, one night I invited her up and she, in true black cat fashion, draped herself over my stomach, her head on my chest. I started going on walks with her and joining the rest of the pack instead of making excuses and hanging back. When I saw how much she loved the attention, I started telling her what a good girl she was and how much I loved her.

We are starting to bond. She will wait for me at the foot of the stairs in the morning or on my bed while I get ready. She will lie in her bed next to me as I work and whenever invited, she will drape herself across me and melt her big black heart into mine.

I have fallen in love with a big black dog. She, likewise, has fallen for me. We have made room for each other in our hearts.

And in the end, there was Sadie, at my side like a true rescue dog, to bring me home.