I think most of us struggle with endings, and I think that for the most part that is a good thing. Otherwise we would be flopping about from here to there. I bring this up because my friend Ellen commented this morning on ending Breast Stroke, as I said we continue to go through and make changes, and edit and edit again, and I realized that while I was pushing the vet to recognize that Bella was well enough to heal at home, maybe I need to recognize that the book is well enough to enter the world.
It was a curious juxtaposition, and now, I smile. How funny we are, and entertaining, not only to others, but to ourselves.
Laughter is my oar for the day, and maybe I'll even find two, and balance out my course. A little energy returns. Listening to Bella cry and seeing her suffer at the vet today was really hard on me. Can't we give pain killers to pets? Are they any less than we?
When I mentioned at the vet's office, a few days ago, that now Tiger was not eating and I thought it was worry for Bella, the vet's office scoffed, saying animals only know survival. Well, Tiger is eating now. We know animals mourn. We ourselves are animals. How can we dismiss any being and their pain?
I'm not going to go as far as those who wear masks so as not to ingest what is unseen, and I don't walk as softly and carefully on the ground as I might, but I do know the sound of pain, and I heard that today. Bella is here with me as I type. We both feel better this way.
Tears for grace and love of the delicacy and strength of life.