Silky-Threaded Stories

Thursday 19 September 2013

Perfect weather for cosying up inside.
I miss my doggy Lester.

But it's getting easier.

This morning I saw a black and white doggy in next door's garden.  And then I thought I heard him/her crying, so I went outside to see if I could see what I could see.

When I got down to ground level I couldn't see the dog anywhere.  I stood outside for a while, sexed up to the nines in gumboots and dressing gown, the overhead decking shielding me a little from the rain that's been relentlessly falling for the last day or so.

And my fancy (bless her, she's a doll) began spinning a silky-threaded story.  I remembered how almost a year ago Chook-Chook came into my life in exactly the same way, through next door's fence.  And I began weaving a reincarnationary love story where the dog in the garden next door has been dumped, the way that Chook-Chook was (I think) dumped, because this dog is pregnant.  And the reason she has wended her way to the garden next door is because of the love agreement that Lester and I made last week via the ether, where I informed him that if he wishes to return to the earth again as another dogsbody, that I would be most happy to go another round.  And so we take the dog in, and she has babies.  And one of those babies is Lester-and-another.

I do like that story.

I went inside when I couldn't see the dog, all the better to see with from a heightened vantage point.  And there it was, also taking shelter under next-door's decking.  And then I saw a man, in the sexually arousing fluorescent yellow common to workers in any environment that's not in front of a computer.  And he was calling for Buster.  And from my vantage point I got to see the dog and see the man who couldn't see the dog.  And so I was able to direct the man to his dog.

Who, it turns out, was an old boy who was getting rather blind, and who had got out sometime last night. 

And so the man picked him up, and then turned to me with him in his arms and said, "Thanks a lot.  I'm gonna take him home now."

I think that lovely doggy is very much going to enjoy being inside today, warm and cosy and fed.  Just like me.  I have had a few days in a row of being out and about, seeing lovely inspiring people who feed me intellectually, and eating food I really can't afford to be eating (which of course made it even more enjoyable than usual).  And now, being filled up with those interactions, I am so grateful to be home and pottering about in my beautiful solitude that for the next almost-24 hours, there is simply nothing that would remove me from the house (unless it has something possibly to do with chocolate.  And I have a block of Lindt 85% here, so I really can't see that happening).


  1. Hey sorry about your dog. The previous post was very moving. And also, is that really the view from your house? It's great, even in the rain!

  2. Thank you, Emma.

    It is the view from my partner's house, where I am lucky enough to reside :) The foggy days are great, very atmospheric :)

  3. Oh Sue, wish I could've responded sooner - darn computer, it's tentatively better now.

    I love that "your fancy" is helping to ease your pain with beautiful possibilities.
    And, I do believe in possibilities.
    My dearest Kody died thirteen years ago. I held him as he left.
    As I sobbed deep into his coat, I whispered that he can, "come back to me, and I'll know".
    A year later, baby Jack came into my life, my arms - and I knew.

    There is so much of Kody in Jack's eyes along with Jack's own very special, unique spirit. They are individual, yet one and the same. All connected.

    I believe you'll know when your beautiful Lester returns. You'll know.

    Not long after Kody died, I rounded the garden corner one morning and saw him. Sitting there. Staring at me.
    Then he was gone.
    Watching me. Watching over me. Like he'd always done.

    They never really leave us. Not when the bond is so strong.

    Take heart dear Sue. And, take comfort in silkily woven dreams that can - and do - come true.

    1. Thank you very much for making me cry with your beautiful comment, Vicki :) Just gorgeous, sent chills up my spine.

  4. I mean it. And I believe it - with all my heart :)

    1. Well, we both know that life as experienced through the mind and life experienced through the heart are two completely different things, after all. Much more is possible in the latter. I hope you are right ... my heart feels that is how things are. One day we will know with certainty one way or the other.


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