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My personal journal. Access restricted to trusted friends.

sad news / happy news

I didn’t have the full picture of what was happening with Buddy and his litter mates when I last wrote about this, and it’s been quite a rollercoaster of emotions since.

Buddy’s mother, Spirit, is what is known as a ‘woolly malamute’. Woollies have longer coats than regular malamutes, which strangely makes them less capable of dealing with cold, snow, and being wet. The relationship between guard hairs and undercoat is undermined by the nature of the longer coat, so they’re not as well insulated. They are, however, generally sweeter of temperament – if you’re familiar with the research breeding program of foxes in Russia, how being bred for sweeter temperament resulted in startling changes in physical appearance, this is basically what you get with a woolly malamute.
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good news / sad news

Today began with a fright. Yesterday and the day before both began with a fright as well.

My neighbours are not good at managing their firewood, because every morning in the wee hours just before daylight, they’re outside my bedroom window (well, over the fence just outside my bedroom window) swinging an axe to split logs for kindling.

It took me until the third day of waking in a fright to realise there wasn’t a maniac trying to hack through my house and murder me in my bed.

Anxiety and the ‘worst case scenario’… y’know what I’m talking about.

And I’m lucky my supervisors are so nice, because I had a lovely chat with one of them today, ostensibly to discuss my thesis progress, but mostly we talked about dogs. I like my thesis supervisors. :D
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Brrm! Brrm!

When Spirit passed away I went into free-fall. I fucked-up just about every aspect of my life to some degree or another, changing anything and everything so I wouldn’t notice the empty space she left behind. At the time it was a big ol’ mess – physically and psychologically – but in retrospect it was probably the best way I could have gotten through. 

There’s always the possibility of becoming stagnant in your grief, stiff like a statue monument to what’s gone and irrecoverable. I know this, because it’s how I became when I lost Monster; frozen in the moment and endlessly dwelling on the wound so it would never heal.

When the dust settled around my grief this time, there was a car in my backyard. Not entirely an impulse buy, but certainly unexpected. I’d long ago decided I was destined to be perpetually beholden to public transport, sans the responsibility of feeding, watering, shoeing, registering, and maintaining a vehicle. “I’ll never have to pay for parking!” I’d boast, like it was a personal triumph over those silly enough to invest in the whole ‘I have a car’ lifestyle.

It’s not an amazing car, but it’s the perfect ‘first’ car for a learner driver. And it’s the first car I bought for myself, which means something. Not sure what, but it means ‘something’. It’s my car. My little Getz.

I did my time as a learner driver, collecting all the hours necessary (50) to progress to the next stage in an overly-complicated sequence for becoming a full-fledged licensed driver. And late last week I passed (read: aced!) my provisional test. I can now drive without supervision, and can scratch that off my ‘before I turn 40’ bucket list.

I still miss Spirit. All the time. I cry at least once a week thinking about how much I miss her affection and company. But if she hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t be in this place now, where I can get into my own car and drive myself anywhere I want, without a supervisory co-pilot. My time is more my own than it ever was. I wish I could share it with her, this opportunity to just… go. “Let’s find a beach, Spirit!” I’d say. “Let’s play in some sand and some surf this afternoon.” I think she would have liked that.

But I will have Buddy soon enough, and maybe he’ll enjoy all the things Spirit enjoyed, and I can take him places Spirit and I couldn’t go, because I never learned to drive. My world just got bigger, and I need a new friend to help me fill it.