Memorial day, July 14th

I didn’t realize today was today until last night when I read the date on the notification that my spin class was scheduled. July 14th. Even if my consciousness didn’t realize it my subconscious had. I had been dreaming the night before about a group of schnauzers running around. I kept grabbing one after another only to realize they weren’t my dog. It was so frustrating that I couldn’t find him that I started bawling and let out a primal scream so intense that I suddenly woke up with chest pains. It would have been Dieter’s birthday today if he had still been here.

I look at a lot of adoptable dogs on a regular basis. I get so anxious about taking the next step that I just swear to myself that I won’t look at anymore for at least a week. Then I saw a comment the other day that some family’s 15-year-old dog passed away a month ago and they’re ready to add to the family. Come on! How is it that easy for you to go get a replacement before the grass has even sprouted on the gravesite? I don’t know. All I know is I almost cried during my workout today. I had to crush it down and it gave me a pounding headache for the rest of the hour.

At least this morning, Bukowski was extra clingy and went so far as to try to jump onto the sill of window that was closed, simply because I was looking out of it. After a chuckle, I said, “Dude, the window isn’t even open!” Only to have Bukowski respond like a brat, “I KNOW!” I could tell his ego was sufficiently bruised. He told me he did it on purpose, because I looked to morose gazing out the window. Perhaps he did, most likely he didn’t. For me laughter is brief. It’s hard to keep my mind from wandering through the what-if’s and coulda-been’s. Workouts usually help me keep a blank slate, but I’ve started to notice at a certain level of exhaustion and endurance my mind completely leaves my body and I’m not there in that room anymore. Then I’m stuck in the shoulda, woulda, coulda’s.

Now I’m that weird, sweaty, solitary girl at a coffee shop in cat hair covered yoga pants eating a cupcake that is 60% buttercream frosting.FullSizeRender 2

Happy Birthday, Dieter.

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