An answered prayer, with hair

You know that whole work-from-home, caring-for-ma-with-dementia thing? Especially coupled with a grew-up-an-only-child-in-your-head-a-lot deal? Add to that reading-Adam-Phillips‘-On-Flirtation-essays-riffing-on-Freud while ellipticalling and you have a recipe for slow disaster. Or, something — Phillips would not call it a disaster, he would call it something like ‘a different way of doing something else’. At any rate I have been thinking a lot, something I’m not that great at. I am much better at doing. Even in grad school a professor said to me, “You do your best work when you don’t think.” I think about things I miss, I think of the past, I face backward and want to drag the past into the future — all things that turn life into a big none-of-my-beeswax-mud-pie. So I prayed (talked to the air) that something would happen, something cheaper than therapy and…voila! My answer came in the form of a dog.

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Today we took in a found dog, a white West Highland terrier. I was at the vet with Chan and his flea prob-LAM when a burly tow truck driver on a call wearing outdoor wear with reflective tape galore walked in holding this dog he’d found walking down the highway. The vet couldn’t take it in and who knows where in the hell a dog pound is so I piped up. “I’ll take her!”

She is very sweet and will sit up with her little paws curled in front of her. She is completely bald in her lower regions and looks as wrinkly and weird down there as ET. Her tail is a bald and frightening parsnip! I made signs to put up near where she was found yet at the same time I hate to give her back to someone who has neglected her so. I paid for her flea treatment of shampoo and pills. We call her Ginger and more will be revealed.

All I do know is that Ginger fills those spaces in my brain that were filling up with psychic mischief. This is why I need an entire rescued animal farm, in order to be proactive!

UPDATE: Dog reunited with owner the next day!

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