Candid Corvid Productions

She didn’t cry until it was safe to let down her hair.

Our tiger went first
He was the oldest
God, I miss him

Now the two girls
Sisters in spirit
Soon traveling

And the wolf is
Loosing sight
Though fiesty

Two fish gone
With only one
Flaring proudly

Our numbers
Diminishing =
Accomplished?

Lives cared for –
But were they
Truly happy?

The “reward” is
Freedom from
Responsibility

Talk about
Heart-wrench
Loss reality!

Taking the queen and ranger to the vet this morning, they both were up to their prior usual antics.

Our queen climbed onto the couch and tried to eat fake grass, and our ranger kept ranging all over up and down – including both trying and succeeding at easing onto my shoulders while I was sitting.

Then, our queen settled onto my lap and our ranger came and went as they both received cuddles, head-boop-groomed each other in gentle affection, and absorbed my carresses while stretching into gentle spine-flex rubs.

For once, we were there as a happy family.

Yes, the three of us are each falling apart in various stages – but we’ve belonged together.

Unified.

And I realized that this moment – for such rare moments as these – is what all of the struggle to keep them some version of healthy and alive has been all about.

Pure caring.

Sparks of joy

Love.

Eh…it’s definitely an issue – but highly overrated!

(“Middle fingers in the air” – Missio song ref)

Thus, our pack went for a walk today with the neighbor: humans, canines, and a kitty.

Despite my own reinjuries, in times of distressed desperation, sometimes I just shove back at the barriers.

Bodies breaking down is not an easy thing to manage nor witness in a caretaking position for a healer whose job it is to restore health and fitness.

For so long, it was about ensuring the safety and continued well-being of everybody as children grew.

Now, children have flown – as they should – and the older animals are expiring.

And the wolf howls out in a prolonged howl for the first time that I ever remember, as if she is being stabbed painfully – thus ushering forth another ER vet visit.

Belief in a future.

Scissors too dull to cut thin plastic.

Can openers that do not consistently puncture to remove tin lid.

Blenders with spouts that cause liquid being poured out to goop-stream down outside of the blender container.

He would have been 93.

His wife took care of everything.

I wonder…

Did she get back what she had given?

Even half as much to make her life with him worth living?

Or was she just defaulted into old roles expected where emptiness is payment’s currency?

Do we all break down into primordial ooze when hurt, afraid, and alone?

Will I bounce back, or is this the end?

I can’t tell which way is up, anymore.

Maybe it’s down.

I fell yesterday.

A distant relative died today.

The wolf is being pushy while my back spasms.

I want to learn, but I don’t want the pressure of timelines.

Feeling space around me is necessary.

I do not know what I am
Capable of anymore…
I just keep trying.