The Survivor Tree

Once you get past the advertising, there's a great story here.

Fake-It "Til you Make-It!

I am relentlessly cheerful. I have discovered that it does me no good to whine, critique and complain. If I can choose my path it is towards positive thoughts, helping others and fixing what is broken. However, my own momentum will carry me only so far. Sometimes I wish I were not so convincing when I proclaim that all is well; that I don't need any help.

I yearn to hear the words "thank you", "well done", "If you hadn't done...? We would be seriously fucked!" I hear those words often from friends and strangers. They are meaningful, not to be denigrated.

I never hear them at home; where the heart should be. I am tired and discouraged; yet a fool who will rise again tomorrow; full of hope.

Dog Tired

The "neither here, nor there" moon was fighting for space in a troubled sky; momentarily embraced by a dark-rainbow circumference, as it's bright, cold luminosity refracted unevenly through the prism of moist air.

The mystique of my dog-walking has turned to drudgery as yet another flare of optimism fizzles in disappointment on the adoption front.

It is hard to find a home for two dogs at once. In addition, these are energy-filled, can't be placed with cats or small children, potential grooming nightmare, emotionally high maintenance, big hairy dogs.

Boomer and Darcy are on the Collie Rescue web site and on Pet Finder. We have flyers up with vets and groomers and on many community notice boards. I don't have a client who has not heard about them. They have sent emails to their friends as well. Several single collies have been placed in new homes since June, when I acquired my Foster-Canines.

During the first month there was not even a tiny glimmer of interest. There have been three or four couples since then who have applied, had house inspection visits and been approved to adopt, only to withdraw at the last minute for one reason or another.

This past weekend we had a call from a lovely older couple of dog lovers. Their previous Labrador had lived to be twenty. His name was Sam Spade; in reference to the character in The Maltese Falcon; a book written by this gentleman's uncle. They came to visit the dogs and it was, unfortunately, evident that, although 80 may be the new 60, recent open heart surgery for one and hip surgery for the other rendered them too frail to have such robust new additions to their family. They made a donation to Collie Rescue and may yet end up with an older, quieter version.

The first time that it seemed likely that the Fur-Children would be leaving, I found myself snivelling away as I read the email, even though I was happy for them. I am sure that I will cry again when we do finally find a matching home but I have reached a point that I would prefer it to be sooner, rather than later.

As the days draw in and I find myself walking in the dark both morning and evening, I am anticipating the first real rainy day. I already have a collie. I know how many gallons of water can be absorbed into that beautiful double coat. Now multiply that by three!

Business is picking up (no complaints there). I am neglecting my clients; arriving late and leaving early. Some days even putting an extra 30 miles on my car to return home at lunch and walk the dogs so they don't get bored before I come back again and walk them some more in the evening. I haven't been horse riding in weeks, my blog is neglected and I don't have time to fully read and comment on the blogs I love to follow, as I try to speed read to at least keep up a little.

We have been discussing the option of letting the dogs be adopted separately. We don't want to split them up but they are living a half-life with me. I keep them in the garage and side yard when I am not home, which is why I take them out so much. I let them mingle with my old dog when I am there but she falls over easily and could be hurt if they tried to play with her unsupervised. I have brought some client drawings home to work on tomorrow morning and cancelled my appointment with the rep from the Yellow Pages to review our ad. All so I can keep the dogs company and not feel guilty about their care.

The older the dog the harder to place. Darcy and Boomer cannot have their 7th birthday go by in foster care. Four months have gone by like the wind.

Enough with the downer moaning. They are safe and apparently happy with me. I will soldier on and quit whining. I will hold out a while longer for a special home where both litter-mates can stay together.

I have already mentally planned what they will wear for Halloween if they are stuck here another month. Big Boomer will be SuperMan/Dog in blue spandex with a red cape. Darcy was born to dress as a French Maid. I had better go fabric shopping and start sewing this weekend, or we won't be ready by the big day.

Prosperity

I can hear prosperity raining down from the clouds
but, for now, it is a faraway sound:
the patter of raindrops on the rain forest canopy.
It is beginning to accumulate, to drip and slide from the tips of the
leaves of the tallest trees.
It falls and bounces and falls again; gaining momentum, as we wait below,
faces raised, thirsty, parched, optimistic creatures of the forest floor.

Muddy Boots

I may not read tea-leaves-but I can see hope in muddy boots.

- My every-day, dog-walking, puddle-proof wellies. (Wellington Boots)

Their pinkness and happy floral make me smile for that alone, but they also have such potential for new friendships; for who can resist commenting on bright pink boots in the company of a big (wet!) furry dog?

This week we had rain. Not enough to end fears of drought, but more than expected. I have twice heard solo-frogs trying to start a chorus.

- Rainy Day Fashion Boots.

I needed them as I escorted clients around our outdoor display area at work and I wore them to several construction-site meetings. Getting these boots muddy is a small sign of momentum returning to my industry; Somewhat like my one daffodil, now in flower, which last week was only a pushy stalk and now is a full-bloom yellow promise of things to come.

- Riding Boots.

The muddy christening of my new riding boots. The act of buying them was a statement to self that I am worth it and a commitment to stop letting days and weeks and years go by denying myself my true passion. There will always be obstacles; money and time being the short-story version. 

Whenever I return to my Equine Element I recognize that I am at the center of that which makes me happiest; nurtures my confidence; and is the lexicon by which I translate the rest of life around me.

Yesterday I rode a horse; The aroma of warm wet horse enveloping me as I concentrated on improving my position, the better to communicate with this large, gentle, trusting animal. He didn't know me and I had just met him but we strove for an hour to be the best that we could be together.

One down - a million more hours in the saddle to go.