My dog is dying

Rocco. He’s been with me through hell and back a few times. Little man is a 16 year old chihuahua. My pets are my everything. My cat Charlie lived to 21. I’ve had tragic stories about others. Pets are collateral damage in divorce wars, as they are in every hard life story.

Rocco

Out pets are part of our lives. They are our lives.

But I’ll stay positive on this. It seems, that my positive academic and professional friends, don’t really feel happy about anyone talking about tragedy, trauma or sadness without also putting an upbeat spin on things. Until now that is.

Now that our world is drowning in anxious sadness, demanding for a more realistic picture of the balance of the dueling psychologies. Pathology vs. Positive.

It was never a competition. I’m not sure why people made it so, other than, you’d have to fully understand how academia works. Publish or perish baby.

My church going religious friends think I’ve lost Jesus ’cause I cuss in public. Not a one of them would turn Adele down if she wanted to hang out though. Or Ryan Reynolds. Or Lady Gaga. Serendipity, isn’t it?

What they were really saying is, “We don’t want YOU to cuss ’cause you’re middle aged, and overweight, and under-famous. You don’t have money or power and we can’t use knowing you as leverage so, we are really not going to play in your sandbox. We’re not going to address it head on, but instead, just … ghost you. Like a bad boyfriend.”

It’s funnier when you know that inside world that never fully makes sense while also defining culture as a living, breathing museum.

None of them matter right now, ’cause my true and only real friend that matters most in the world, is in his last stage of life and I’m a wreck.

I’ve known for a while that he was going to reach his end date. All living beings have one. I just kept pretending that he’d live to be twenty. He’s a resilient little dude. Always has been. He’s so sad that he can’t hold his bowels or pee anymore.

He’s so tired.

So am I.

I hit a wall. So many people have died, or battled cancer, experienced hardship, suffered. So many people around the world are at war with each other for innocuous things that really aren’t serious. We are furious with each other for reasons beyond comprehension.

Did logic fly out the window, dragging compassion and kindness with it?

I’m tired. Of all of it.

I’m tired of misogynistic males telling me not to make a fuss or ruffle any feathers when I hear about sexual predators or work place harassment. I’ve been listening to that crap for my entire cognitively aware life. We’re talking about half a century. That’s 55 years too long.

I’m tired of malignant mean girls trashing all over my career, life, love, safety and family, just because they are spiteful and horrible. Something our flying monkey’s do when they perceive a threat to their own sense of self. Shall we go deep into psychoanalysis … ’cause we could. But … we won’t.

I’m tired of the outward social drama where everyone is screaming, but nobody is listening to anyone else. I’ve coined this … #thepandemicragepage

I’m tired of the diet industry STILL trying to make people feel bad about themselves because of their weight. Holy dear gawd, just stop already. Let it rest!

I’m tired of needing space to grieve while being peppered with story, after story, after story of badly behaved humans throwing hot soup in the faces of our young cashiers, then crying ’cause nobody will stay in the service industry jobs.

I’m tired of people sticking other people into boxes in tandem with corporations publicly saying they denounce those boxes while covertly labeling people, making our lives even harder to live.

I’m tired of the online trolls who terrorize everyone all the time … for sport.

But right now, besides all of that, I’m grieving the end of a 16-year long friendship. So the rest of it will have to wait.

The human mind was not equipped to have to know about, let alone fix or hear about every single global issue out there all within a few hours, or days or even weeks.

It’s too much.

And honestly?

Today is a ‘no bones’ day for me. And for Rocco.

What does advocacy work look like?

It looks like anything we want it to.

It looks like good days and bad days. Or, bones days or no bones days if you’re on Tik Tok.

Today is a writing day | a low key self-help day | a no bones day for Rocco.

Today is not the day for anything else.

We set our limits, then honor our boundaries. Today’s stressors will be here tomorrow. That’s just part of reality. It’s not negative. It’s reality. Loving our best friend even if we do have to pick them up to go out to poo, we always know they love us too.

A day in the life …. starting on Monday, the 15th.

(c) @happinessnoir @InkHoneyPub @K.ArenHenryMiller

Published by happinessnoir

Writer | Advocate | Free Range Female | Change Agent | Essayist

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