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Puppies and Letters from Jail
2005-02-13 - 8:51 a.m. ***Caution*** READ WHILE EATING AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! So sometime around 2 a.m. Saturday, the BH wakes me up with typical "Timmy-is-in-the-well" dogspeak. I got up and followed her down the hall, through the dining room, kitchen, and into the laundry room, where one of my dogs was having puppies. She was trying to have them on the floor of the pantry. Since we are chronically foodless as I am not currently sucking the tit of the state of LA via its f00d st@mp program (long story), there is very little food in the pantry, and ever since the Siege of Queenie, I have been using the pantry floor as storage for the weed whacker, a pair of crutches, cans of paint, and other assorted detritus for which there is no other storage area. And my doggy Einstein picked this spot to give birth! By the time I got there she had 2, and #3 was on the way. I immediately started sweeping, mopping and waxing the kitchen floor so she would have a clean, spacious "birthing suite" for the event. I laid out blankets and took the (by then) 3 pups out of the pantry, and mama dog followed. She was doing a pretty good job, biting off the umbilical cords, eating the afterbirth as they all do, but I stuck around to make sure there were no complications, as it is her first (and last!) litter. The BH hovered solicitously, and got many bellyrubs for waking me up as she had. The last pup, #9, was born sometime around 8 a.m. By then, mom was exhausted and crashed out while feeding them. I took a shower and did the same. I haven't even done the m/f ratio yet, but there are 5 black, 3 white, and one gorgeous buff colored pup with an absolutely irridescent coat. I know I need 9 puppies like a f'n hole in the head, but they are soooo sweet! Mi hija and her b/f have promised to assist me with finding them good homes in a month or so. Last night before bed, I tried to get mama dog to go outside, to no avail. I let the BH out, the little Italian-looking dog, and the 2 chihuahuas out for their final run, and left the rest of the fools out in the fenced backyard for the night, as it was mild and not raining. I let the 4 back in, and went to bed. I had forgotten to put up the doggy gate between the kitchen and dining room, and about 15 minutes after retiring for the night, heard mama dog in the hall on the carpet, loudly letting loose with the flying shits. I could tell it was bad from the sound before I even crossed the threshhold. I was still hoping it was "just puke" when the smell hit me. Great googily moogily! For those of you without dogs, a little background. Dogs giving birth have no appetite before, during or after. So my dog hadn't eaten in close to 24 hours. However, she had consumed the bloody afterbirth from nine (9) puppies. For those of you lucky enough never to have swallowed gouts of blood or bled internally, and I hope you are legion, ingested blood causes black excrement. In this case, blak, smelly diarrhea. On the carpet in the hall. Right outside my bedroom. After re-routing mama dog to the backyard and checking my gag reflex at the door, I went to work. I donned gloves, got plastic bags, paper towels, newspapers, pine oil, hot water, a scrub brush, and a mop. I was leaving no stone unturned on this task. It was rough. The fact that it was still warm and steaming only added to its effect. We had pulled the carpet up in the livingroom and diningroom, and all that remains is the strip in the hall. With unerring accuracy, she had picked this spot. Sigh. I finally finished, took trash out to can, stripped down for yet another shower, changed into clean pjs, sprayed $35 a bottle Ralph Lauren "Romance" all around the hall & my bedroom to cover the essence of "Eau de Dogshit," and headed back to bed to ponder the irony that my day had both began and ended with a mop in my hands. (you may resume eating now) I got another letter from the Indian: Shana, I got your letter today, it's 3 a.m. and i can't sleep. Shana, you would not believe how much I'm truly, truly happy to hear from you that you are into reading the Bible, prayer, and meditation. Also, I realize ALL of my mistakes a hell of a lot clearer at this given point. Let me tell you, baby, God is a forgiving God! I study and read the Bible quite often in here. I try to separate myself from all of the craziness. I damn sure don't want to be in hell if it's any worse than what we've put ourselves through here on earth. I've been ordering spiritual books through the J0yce Myer Christian Prison Ministeries for some time and thought of you while reading some of them. I always remember you making the Sign of the Cross when we passed the Catholic Church in Alligator. One book they sent me is "The Battlefield of the Mind," I know that catches your interest. I can see those wheels turning from here right now. Shana, you know that I have been in and out of this spiritual thing for many, many, many years and I cannot tell you how much the book has helped me come to terms and get to know myself honestly so that I can reach a point of growth spiritually to be closer to God, at this time in my sickness and in health - in either way. I have truly learned that knowledge of the Bible does not mean a thing without application. I am practicing what I learn as I learn it and I don't mean cheating myself by halfstepping. I'm really growing spiritually. I hope by now that you have come to realize this, baby, in spite of everything we've been through together and apart with my COWBOY lifestyle, I really care about you. I'm just not good at showing it like other people. All of those all night flights and talks we've had (among other times), I shared every bit of my spiritual life and growth I ever learned through my small education and rehab with you. Those were my way of giving myself to you, baby. I truly hope you understand that. Slow yourself down! Give yourself a break! Quit being so damn hard on yourself. If you will listen to me, Shana, on this spiritual thing, I know that god will help both of us, after all, Jesus said "Wherever 2 of you are joined in my name, I am there. This may be a little long distance, but I'm sure He understands. Write back, (his name) PS - about the Hannah thing, I told Queenie that was happening months before it did! Does this surprise you?! I'm just getting older, not blind! I saw it coming; no surprise at all. I know it's all jailhouse talk, but I want to believe that he is growing more spiritual. that was one of the things I so loved about him, his spirituality, his intuition, his way of piercing through the bs to the essence of the matter. He was the only man I couldn't bullshit. After awhile, I didn't even try. With him I kept it real. So reading that he's going back to that makes me happy. I'm sure he'll change once he's on the street, when the siren song of drugs and drink gets the best of him again. He is a man of deep contradictions, and I've seen both sides, the heights and the depths. But knowing that he is trying to attain that spirituality again puts peace in my heart. Should he die while incarcerated, he will go to God with a clear conscience. Well, time to make the donuts. �
still here - 2009-12-18
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