Rescuing Pepper

Personal, Pets

“And in the end , / letting go was / a lot like finding / love. / I had to learn / to say goodbye / to the one / who gave me the / courage to say / hello.”

“Hello Again” by Robert M. Drake from his book

Black Butterfly

This photo is from my Instagram, dated July 28th, 2014. The caption [on Instagram] reads: “Yesterday, we suffered the tragic loss of #GeorgiBoy. It seems something attacked him from the inside, and he…he’s gone…”
Gingy was with me when Georgi died. We were devastated by his loss — and those scars remain.

On January 7th, 2019 a beautiful tiger-striped brindle mutt rushed across a busy street. I called her to me, and she came, running, in submissive stance. No ID, collar, or microchip were found, and no one has claimed or come looking for her since.

We let Gingy meet her. He immediately took a wild gallop through the house, encouraging her to join him. Drew and I each marveled at how well they got along — immediately. Gingy is usually very particular about his doggy-friends. But if this dog starts to run away, Gingy screams.

I got a ride to a vet to check her for a microchip. She’s unspayed. Not housebroken. The vet said she’s still a puppy. The kindly animal lover who drove me to the vet kept saying how “…this is a God thing. You can’t get rid of that dog…” and I could feel how right she was. We had been thinking about adding another dog to our family, but it was a “later” thing. Something that probably wouldn’t happen for awhile. My plan was to eventually adopt another male boxer mix when we were ready. But I think God gets a kick out of mixing up our time tables when we think we know best.

Rescuing Pepper Potts, dredged up painful memories of Georgi’s final days, leaving me to question my modest dog training skill set. Drew also recognized that though I love Pepper, I struggled to let her in at first — I still blamed myself for Georgi. I was still gun-shy when it came to opinionated people who think they know my life. I’m grateful for a spouse who gives me permission to forgive myself, and to determine my own truth despite the opinions of others.

–*–Pressing reset with a look of sheer glee–*–

Thank you for reading!




As we enter a hopeful new year, overwhelmed with possibility and perhaps a bit tipsy from our most recent round of “Resolution Roulette”, I’m resetting, refreshing, reviving, readjusting, renewing, re-insert-word-here… I’m just done. So. Restart.

Found on Facebook, February 1st, 2019; uncertain of original.

Not sure who else may be feeling this epithet since the end of January, but it’s taken some time to get over it.

With the passing of time, we cannot stay the same. Growth, balance, survival and creativity all thrive on change. On becoming who we’re meant to be the day before we die.

We refresh for all sorts of reasons. Be it a change in venue. Finding or losing love. Incredible loss or gain. New jobs. New anything. Adding a family member or rescuing an animal. Seasons and weather both internal and external.

Some things won’t change. I still love to write. I still love art. I’ll still enjoy both immensely and share them often in social media. But maybe I’m done with some of my pots and pans. Perhaps I don’t actually need 60 pencils. Maybe we could do without all the clutter and create space for more joy and the things we’re truly passionate about. Maybe it’s time to donate more.

How will you change or grow this year? What will you learn? What will you release? How will you be free?

Thanks for reading,