(no subject)

I've lost people I've loved - they've died, or they've left, but it's happened enough that I know that I can't control it, I can't change it, I can't make it different. Things just happen that are not my choice. Not that I don't feel pain or hurt or loss but I know somewhat the process of accepting it.



Little Cleo, she was defenseless and scared and over time she came to trust us and love us. Without realizing it I thought that this one, this little sad-looking dog who would take a rub on the head and return it as full-body-wiggle joy, who would crawl up next to me in the early morning hours so that I'd have my arms around her and she'd feel safe and warm, this one I could keep safe. This one wasn't in the category of "people die or leave and you get past it." She was my little baby girl, my responsibility to protect from the harsh outside world. The joy I felt from that I don't think I even recognized except for smiling and being happy when she'd leap up on the bed in a wild face lick frenzy, or in the morning when I'd be waking up and she'd roll over on her back with her legs in the air and stretch and look at me with those big brown sad eyes and we both knew that pretty soon we'd be down in the kitchen and she'd be doing that crazy straight up bounce in the air as I prepared her food.

And then I couldn't protect her, or the only way I could protect her and keep her safe was to put her to sleep. For all her love and joy she was dangerous and had proven it twice in a short period of time.

I couldn't protect her. I couldn't prevent this. I thought that loving her was safe but it wasn't. Again.

Again.