Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
31 December 2013
This was a year.
This was a year. Like every other one. Nobody was champions this year, but that's cool. There were forests and the sea, there were horses, there were dogs. It's easy to forget some things. I didn't tell you all about my year. I keep some things secret from you. Nothing personal. It's just better for me to be undercover now, more of the time. Nothing mysterious, life is fine. When I need to be quiet I spend a lot of time up in the woods, hoodie pulled up over my hair, which is never brushed out anymore. Toting my backpack and working on projects in various quadrants up there. Some day, I will fade away from view. Maybe you'll miss me, and maybe you won't.
I went to Oregon this year. Twice. I met my people in Portland. I miss you, Tammy and Heather and Heidi, who were all so kind. I changed my agility this year. I think it's better, it is what it is. Agility is important to me. For a lot of reasons. And if I wanna run some of it backwards using the other arm, then hell yeah, that's what I'm going to do. When Tori taught me that one little k-turn, it all went upside down. Mostly, though, I spent a lot of time figuring out which redwood tree is next to which one. I spent a lot of time not talking and walking further.
Otterpop retired from agility this year. With no fanfare. We just did this. I am happy she's alive. She is an asshat. Gustavo and I accepted each other's flaws, and we just roll. He is terrified of hand lotion, fire, people standing in our kitchen, crows, teeter totters, fly masks, most sounds, and certain trees. I'm happy he's alive. He leads us in the forest. Ruby can't hear shit and can only see out of one eye. She does crazy things and eats garbage and just makes me nervous. I'm happy she's alive. She walks at my heel and sometimes busts out with crazy running that makes all of us scratch our heads.
We don't have any goals for the new year. We just hope to keep on keeping on. Not everybody gets to do this. We have some plans. We chip away at living. Me and my dogs, we're all one. And for this I am eternally grateful.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Well, obviously Oregon was the highlight of the year, which means you should do it again in 2014 - might I recommend May? It's my favorite month and maybe we stick a seminar in it, with lots of running backwards. Then hiking.
And ZOMG they want you to type a 26 symbol password made of incomprehensible numbers just to post this. God dammit.
Happy New Year!
Please don't fade away from view, because we will definitely miss you. Glad you're all still alive and sending occasional dispatches from the forest.
Post a Comment