why, hello there!

i am happy to report that i am finally feeling much better. my tummy is back to normal and my body is almost there. hopefully elizabeth will take me for our usual walks and runs now. all this lying about is not good for a dog’s sanity.

i would, however, like to state for the record that i do not like my old harness or my new harness. i do not see why i have to wear them. elizabeth said something about necks and pain and collars but it didn’t sound important so i ignored her. i give her the big sad eyes look and stop and scratch often and make it very hard for her to put the step-in harness on. nothing seems to work. what does a dog have to do to get his way?

did you hear that i get to send out postcards! i can’t wait.

it's no wonder that i never know what to say when someone or something wants to know the color of atlas. he matches all sorts of colors, from browns to greys. maybe weimaraners are camouflage dogs.

the pup is on bed-rest at the moment. he's not supposed to walk except for potty-breaks, and he's definitely not supposed to run. i am thankful for the late summer heat because it keeps him sluggish. if you have ever tried to rest an extremely active and energetic dog yourself, you know that they just do not understand the concept at all.

(no need to worry. i think he'll be ok. he spent one night last week yelping with pain but it seems to be slowly easing. my guess is that it's a pulled neck or back muscle that's affecting him all over. the trouble is that i can't get him in for an adjustment until later this month and the vet thought that if it wasn't that, it might be a slipped disc, hence the reason she wanted him to really rest.)

{an extremely irregular series inspired by kelly, in which atlas dispenses pearls of wisdom}

"sometimes you just have to let your people do what they want to do, in order to get some peace. besides, better a buried paw than a silly outfit."

atlas' latest kitty friend is polydactyl, meaning he has extra fingers on his (in this case front) paws, so it looks like he is wearing mittens. i could stare at his paws all day. they are adorable.

we met him one day while on a walk. he saw atlas and came sauntering over from his spot in the shade to say hello. they are now friends. whenever we walk by, he comes bounding over the grass or through the bushes to greet us. (the kitty's name is kiki; i just like to call him the six-fingered kitty. i blame "the princess bride" for that.)

when atlas returned from the doggy ranch last week, he was even more kitty-obsessed than usual. after all, he had gone nine (nine!) whole days without seeing one. so, when we went for our evening walk and ran into kiki, there was much rejoicing on all our parts.

atlas and kiki sniffed hello. kiki wandered around him for a while, slapping atlas' face with his tail. kiki settled himself on the grass by us. atlas sat and stared happily or stood towering over kiki as if to be sure he was ready to walk with him at a moment's notice.

atlas can sit and stare forever. i can not.

eventually, i decided it was time to move on. generally, atlas will test my conviction for a bit and then be ready to go. this time? nope. he was pretty sure that he was not leaving.

i pulled and ordered and pushed. nope. i begged and pulled and commanded. nope. i lifted his chest and maneuvered him in the right direction. finally, he gave in – very begrudgingly, i might add. we continued on down the sidewalk.

a few seconds later, what did i hear? a whoosh of air as kiki chased us down.

atlas stopped. kiki and atlas sniffed. kiki wandered under and around him, whap-whap-whap-ing his belly and face with his tail. atlas sat and stared happily.

eventually, i decided to try to leave (again). we went through the same routine (again). finally, i convinced atlas to continue on (again).

a few seconds later, kiki was bounding alongside us (again).

atlas and kiki went through their meet-and-greet routine (again).

repeat ad nauseum.

needless to say, it took a long time to get home that evening. (made even longer because we had to finally turn around and walk kiki back home again.)

if life with a dog were a boxing match, i'm pretty sure that round went to atlas and the six-fingered kitty.

(atlas comes home from the doggy ranch today. yay! i miss him. and i need some new atlas pictures.)

this photo makes me laugh. apparently dogs find watching the sun set extremely dull. atlas certainly does. this particular time, he found a way to amuse himself – by gnawing on the giant piece of driftwood on which i was sitting.

dogs are so silly.

there is a practice i find very useful in working with my fears, when i remember to do it. it’s from the book feeding your demons by tsultrim allione.

atlas was having health troubles over the weekend – it is likely that he is developing an intolerance to the one food he can eat – so i was feeling very sad and discouraged. during my process of working with my sadness and discouragement, i remembered the practice, and felt strangely moved to share the result.

deep breath.

i ask to see the fear of losing atlas.

i see a tall stick figure. it’s a bird with beady eyes and a giant beak. it might have wings but it is really hard to tell, possibly because the wings are just sticks dragging from the shoulders. the image looks awfully familiar. (now, as I write this, i think i know what it is. it looks like my memory of the drawing of that creature in the last book in the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe series – that creature that comes into the barn where they keep the donkey that they’re pretending is a god and picks up the people and carries them away.)

i ask the fear what it wants, what it needs, and how it would feel if it got what it needed.

i change places. as the fear, i answer my questions.

i want to grab atlas and squeeze him tighter and tighter and never let him go. i want to keep him with me forever. i want to always be as happy as i was in that moment when lisa opened the door and i saw his happy face through the screen door and fell in love.

i need you to treat yourself with love and kindness. i need you to know that you are worthy of both, to know that you are worthy no matter what, to realize your inherent value. i am afraid that without something external that reminds you that you are loved no matter what, you will forget, and things will go back to the way they were before. i am afraid that you won’t remember any of this without atlas here to remind you.

if i get what i need, i will feel safety and relief.

i change places.

i ask to transform myself into safety and relief. i see myself whooshing – like a genie going into a bottle – into a tall coke glass full of liquid with a bendable straw in it.

the fear drinks the liquid. (surprisingly, it has no trouble sipping from a straw with its beak.)

as it drinks, it begins to fill with color. by the time the glass is empty, the fear has transformed into a beautiful iridescent blue peacock.

i ask the peacock how it can help me.

i change places. as the peacock, i answer my questions.

i am here to help you remember your inherent beauty and radiance and worth and value. i am here to help you remember that everything you need is inside you. it lives in your heart. you are learning to access it. atlas is in your heart, and he will live there forever. you no longer need something external to remind you that you are worthy.

i can help you remember this by allowing your eye to catch the sparkle of sunlight on the wet grasses and flowers. when you see that sparkle, you will remember my message.

if you need to access me, put your hand on your heart and follow the sunshine. there is sunshine every day. you are learning to find it.

i change places and sit with all of this.

my computer is gone right now. it is at the apple store, where they are transferring all the files over to my new computer. hopefully they will both be home later today or tomorrow.

yes, i am finally upgrading my beloved eight-year-old imac. i have been procrastinating on this for well over a year and a half, and slowly working through the things that were in the way of me upgrading.

on monday, i was finally ready. and then i cried while i was driving to the apple store.

it turns out there was another reason i was procrastinating.

i got my computer the same year i got atlas. atlas doesn't look like he's eight, and i don't feel any older myself, so it is easy for me to forget that eight years have indeed passed. the decision to say goodbye to my computer reminded me.

so, i gave myself a mental hug, told myself that it was perfectly and completely ok that i might feel sad upon being reminded that the puppy i adore is getting older, and let myself be sad. now, i am enjoying his company while he is here – and soon, i will enjoy my new computer.

if atlas could give me one piece of (photographic) advice, this would be it.

if you're going to take a picture, just take it and be quick about it. if it works out, then it works out. don't try to make me do something for a picture. i'm a dog. i don't pose.

not that i am always very good at listening, of course.

here, we were at bonneville dam. i was hiding inside one of those little stone towers with gun holes. atlas jumped up to find me and he looked so cute peeking at me that i decided i needed a picture. look how well that worked out.

(you know what i really want to do someday? i want to do a not-a-william-wegman photo shoot – one where i have to dress up in ridiculous costumes and atlas just gets to be himself. it feels like appropriate restitution.)

i suspect that anyone who visits my online home or meets me in person learns immediately that i have a puppy and that i adore him. i do. beyond reason and measure.

but here is the hard and painful truth – i need him. i need him to be here and well.

this is why i have such a hard time when he's ill: part of me jumps into the past, to the time when he was ill and they didn't know if he would live; part of me jumps into the future, to the time when he will leave me. even as i am taking care of him, worry and panic are swirling around in my head. 

i know that this is not particularly healthy – for me or him – but it is a hard pattern to untangle. in the beginning, i knew how much it scared me to think of losing him, but i didn't know why. eventually, i realized that it was because i needed him, but i still didn't know why.

until the moment i did.

i've written about my struggle with worth – a deep core belief that i am worthless. i couldn't have articulated it for much of my life, but it was always there.

when atlas came into my life, he showed me that i was worthy of love. not when i did the right thing or was the right person, but even as i did the wrong things and wasn't the right person. i still didn't believe it, but he was always there to show me.

he was with me through a number of increasingly harder and sadder years that i never told anyone about. i was the person who was always happy and smiling and how does that person tell someone that something is terribly wrong. especially when she doesn't know what it is.

he was there when i found reiki and began to listen to myself and slowly learn what was wrong – and he was there as the healing began.

he was there for all of it.

now, there is a part of me that believes that all the good in my life is attached to atlas and it will go when he does. that is why i need him. because that part of me believes that if (when) he leaves me, not only will i lose my beloved puppy, but i will lose all the love and the joy and the goodness along with him.

intellectually, i know this is not so. i know that i am not the same person i was then. (well, that's not entirely true. i am the same person. i am just becoming more and more me.) i know that the common thread is not atlas but me. but i don't know it – really know it – yet.

this is a big part of why i chose trust as my word for the year. because working with this pattern is a big part of my practice.

i must confess that i am not entirely sure why i feel moved to share this. it is hard for me to admit this to myself, let alone to others.

i am afraid that if i share it, people will laugh and think less of me. but i also suspect that i am only afraid of this because i have an internal voice that laughs at me. "he's just a dog." "get over it already."

at the same time, i suspect that we all have needs and desires and fears that we are afraid to admit. we are afraid that people will judge us for them. we are afraid that people will think less of us for them. we are afraid that people will stop loving us for them.

maybe if i share one of mine, someone else will feel a little less alone, a little less afraid, a little less unsure.