But thought I'd re introduce myself with this gem of a tune.
Riveting story about a hound I once knew below the fold...
So... I just let "my" hound go. Yup- it was an "odd" process, but I thought what the hell?!? Lately, I've been sharing every piece of food I eat with him. He seems to enjoy it (or hasn't "complained"). I also quit picking him up and carrying him onto the bed with me- if he wants to sleep with me, he'll let me know.
He used to always wake me up around 6:30 or so.. demanding food (so I thought). He used to be such a jerk about peeing "on command"- sometimes there would be "accidents" left in the house. I thought I remedied this situation by giving him at least two walks a day- and our partnership seemed to be working okay.
Not sure if I've made mention (actually I know I haven't formally written about it), but I was in Level 1 Psychiatric hosptial about 3 months ago or so. I had been on a little "bender" of "typing" and "thinking" (on fb no less)- a few of my gals came over and basically made me feel crazier than I was ALREADY "feeling"...
Couple of things my releasing my hound taught me today
#1 I ain't crazy
#2 Money is a fuken CRAZY word ( take out the "one" in the middle, strategically place it to the right of the M and Y - combine the M and Y into "my"... and you get the phrase "my one")
I didn't let "my" hound go today- I set him free. At first I took off his leash as we started walking outside. He "stayed" by "me"- but had an extra pep in his step and wagged the HELL out of his tail. He led me to plants, lifted his leg and PISSED all over every surface of cement or any other "man made" object. I realized I hadn't "let" him out in over 10 hours and he had not scratched the door or barked- or displayed any indication of "him" wanting "me" to put him on a leash and lead him outside. He's very resilient.
So we traversed on the walking bridge.. him meandering around and leading me to "corners" or "spaces" on the bridge that brought me to a "stand still" and I would think. I realized how much I trusted and loved this dog- he isn't "my" dog- he's a dog, or whatever he is- I don't "own" him. I feel like I'll see him again... or maybe I won't?! I do no that I don't care either way.
Then I took off his collar and his "tags"- he was naked, so to speak. He was happy and greeting all the people and other dogs on the bridge. when we got to the other side of the bridge he started sniffing around and frolicing in the picnic forest covered area. I will be honest- I was nervous about "walking" away from him. I have (had) strong "feelings" of attachmet for him- but he is part of the universe, just as I- so this "false" sensation of "grief" is more a celebration of my realization that "he" will always be a part of me... in some shape or form.
A couple times as we were on the bridge (I had "my" headphones on, of course)- people would "ask" if he was my dog- at first I very quickly responded with "yes"- because I thought he was "mine." I had "bought" into the commodity rationalization of thought- being that "I" fed him (fucken poison in a bag), being that "I" (with a help of "my" partner at the time) paid to cut his "balls" off, or "tried" to control his natural reproductive abilities, "I" filled his water and food dishes and "let" him know "when" it was time to eat. "I" opened the door for him and "held" his leash so he could enjoy the outdoors- "I" put him in the "kennel" when I left the house because I "owned" him- mine, and he "totally" loved me for that (...snark)