dirty playroom

I had a cluster of topics I wanted to discuss and share with you this week, but sadly they’ve been discarded. Temporarily anyway thanks to yesterdays chilling events.

I took my dog for our usual walk around the park in the morning. Her for shits and giggles and me for some exercise and much-needed meditation down-time. I was doing what I always do, opening up to the universe, contemplating life and such and feeling thankful for the teeny bit of warmth that was pouring from the heavens after a cold and miserable weekend. I seemed to direct my thoughts onto how lost and alone I felt lately in regards to my chosen path and the general, everyday support I felt lacking. But those feelings of loneliness heightened when I recalled a humorous dream from the other night. It starred an old lost flame of mine which I’m sure I’ll go into more detail with you another day, but the overall thought of it left me pondering this encounter of the fantasy kind. Replaying it over and over like some old world romance in black and white film. But then I come to a horrid conclusion. Realising that I had potentially reached paralysing point in my life; the kind of dramatic thought that life may be over as you know it because one is now fated to roam the earth alone.

Forever.

I must have been dwelling on such thoughts with ferocity or something because I happened to ignore a little spark of intuition that seemed to flare up as we approached the gate that marks the completion of our first lap. It nudged me to call it a day and head back home, but my little poochie-cakes was blooming, overly excited and wanted to continue on so we did. And just as we were halfway through that second lap a large and seemingly peaceful German Shepard neared with his owner. I didn’t think anything of it. We’d already passed two ladies with six canines between them, all large and jolly breeds and though my sidekick was a little intimidated by their size, (which is nothing out of the ordinary) they said their hello’s, sniffed around here and there and simply parted ways. So as we approached this duo I thought nothing of it and went through the usual motions with her, the sniffing and stuff but something went awry and before I knew it the two of them were snarling and lost in a cloud of dust.

Then came the screeching.

Horrible, grisly screeching that came from my dog. The most chilling, blood curdling sound I’ve ever heard. She was flat on her belly trapped below the larger dog that stood towering over her petite frame, jabbing away at her precious white fluff with his mouth. And I froze. I couldn’t believe nor understand what exactly was happening, and worst yet, I just didn’t know what to do. And the distressing part was that I had actually thought about such an atrocity in the past. Whenever I heard of tales of little dogs getting mauled by others, I always envisioned myself stepping in, being that hero and risking my life for hers yet there I was, stupefied. I just stood back in consternation, completely unsure of how to proceed while the middle-aged owner of the German Shepard tried in vain to pull his dog off mine. And as he struck his pet on the back numerous times with his tennis ball launcher thing I somehow snapped into action and tried shoving the dog aside with the side of my body. My little sidekick managed to escape from beneath him and as she ran over to my protective side, I stepped in with my arm and blocked the German Shepard’s open mouth. He didn’t bite me and I managed to push him aside enough to score a few free seconds to scoop up my sidekick to safety.

All seemed well once she was in my arms. The screeching wouldn’t subside though and I thought that was from the overall shock and trauma of what just transpired. She was also a little tender on one of her arms but aside from that, no blood drawn from either party and I was incredibly thankful for that as worst case scenarios of limp white fur flooded my mind. And the poor man, he was terribly apologetic and I thought he may even start to weep at one stage, but since I believed no serious harm was done to either pooch we parted ways.

2bb1c9a57f9f403d415a40ace49a23dfIt wasn’t until I left the park and on our way home that I finally noticed the blood on the glittery sleeve of my sweater. It was a mere few drops of crimson but those scant drops of colour were enough to send me into trepidation. And once I made it home and into the arms of my parents panic overwhelmed me as I tried explaining what happened. And with that came the crying closely followed by hysteria as I uncovered a wound above her hind leg. It was red, raw and bleeding and all I could think of was take her to a vet. But then it was a public holiday and I had literally only thirty cents in my a bank account and a five dollar note in my wallet. I was so torn and trapped between a rock and a hard place. I just didn’t know what to do?

What I could do?

My parents who were more than capable of paying kept insisting not to go, that she’d be fine. Things like that are not uncommon and will heal on their own. They’d seen worse before. So I spent the afternoon crying and attending to her, vowing to never leave her fluffy side and finding some comfort on Google. Things like how to clean the wound, what to do and even reading stories of others whom faced the same situation that was now just sprung on myself.

Google was my saviour in a weird and twisted way. It offered some condolences and hope when there was not shred to be found. One thing that angered me so were those forums I encountered of a lone dog lover who found themselves in a similar situation, couldn’t afford that hefty vet bill and was looking advice from others. A hopeless dog lover seeking help and only finding judgemental bastards whose only reply was if you can’t afford to look after an animal then don’t have one. That statement got me so mad and it’s not the first time I’ve heard such a thing neither. When I found my sidekick I was by no means rolling in cash but I was comfortable and more than capable to provide for the two of us but things change. Circumstances change overnight. Five years down the track I fell victim to the GFC, left debt ridden, lost my job, living at home with my parents and reliant on welfare. I never planned for any of this but shit happens and because shit happens you don’t just give away your dog because you don’t have a spare $5000 in your bank account or credit card for emergencies of that kind. For both you and your pet. You wouldn’t give away a family member would you? So when people spout that crap I get completely defensive and furious because I know what it’s actually like to live in that way. How easy it is for others to cast judgment and point fingers when they’ve never known what it is truly like to be at that level and live in this way.

I hated reading those comments because it made me feel even worse and added fuel to the raging inferno I was already battling within. Sure there may be a few bad eggs out there but not all of us are horrible human beings. My dog is literally my world and it pains me like no other that I had to sit on the fence like that, contemplate such things because my bank balance dictated it so and I had no one else to turn to. And it’s not the first time I’ve had to risk something potentially serious like that. And I mean for myself. My last panic attack I held off dialling for an ambulance while my heart pounded uncontrollably in my chest and left me with crippling pains and worst case scenarios situations. I couldn’t call for help because all I could picture was myself draped in an unflattering shade of blue on a mangy hospital bed, finding out I need urgent heart surgery but with no means of actually paying for the bill that would follow. That fear is crippling and until you’ve been there, you will not ever understand.

But with this event I don’t think I’ve ever felt so low and utterly helpless. And worst of all so consumed with a terror that my only reason for breathing was going to leave me. And then I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Anyone to comfort me as I sat outside, cheeks burning red, eyes puffed up like a blowfish and head pounding with pain from all the crying I was doing. I didn’t know who to call and then those I may have called I didn’t want to be a burden on but I desperately needed to confide in someone, have someone other than my parents tell me it will be ok and offer words of wisdom. I ended up reaching out to a blog friend, and even though the time difference meant I would not get a response hours after, it still soothed my guilt ridden soul slightly. And she helped me, thankfully. Just a few kind words and prayers that saw me disassociate with the negativity that stewed away in my mind. So thank you Launna from Letters From Launna for your help last night. I don’t know what I would have done without it.

Maybe because these doom and gloom thoughts that I allowed to invade my mind left me a little distracted and sidetracked, I’m not sure, and I’ve been rattling my brain trying to comprehend the hows and whys such a thing could have happened to us. But maybe that was the point. I was complaining to the universe about how alone I was and then, boom, yes girlfriend, you’re majorly alone here! And hey you want to see bad? I’ll show you how bad things can get for you! I didn’t have a soul to turn to then and there. No one I could call upon who’d try to understand my pain and fear. No one to come in and save the day and rescue me. Seeing how truly alone one is and in such a situation is not at all pleasant and I don’t really understand how I’ve gotten to such a place. They say friends come and go, the ones you don’t need to let go off to make room for those kindred spirits. I did all that a while ago but I’m yet to find my flock. All I seem to do is float around to other flocks, trying to force my way in but when you’re a flamingo there’s no way to disguise it amongst magpies. So where the hell are my flamingos at?

And why Universe, why oh why would you put me in such a place? Thankfully she’s still her cheery, happy-go-lucky self and the wound seems to be scabbing over. And I can’t tell you how thankful and grateful I am for that, but still I can’t understand why something like this would happen to us?

xxx

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “dirty playroom

  1. I am so happy your doggy is okay… message me whenever you like, if I am awake I will respond… if I’m not, I will definitely message you when I am. I don’t like anyone to feel alone, you are not alone 🙂

thoughts? secrets? leave them here

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s