I’ve been away from the blog for a while.
One day I’m blogging my chipped fingernails to the quick. The next day…week…month...BAM... I’m sick.
Sick people don’t care one whit about fashion, blogs, amusement parks, horned toads, changing seasons or wiener dogs. OK..maybe they still care about dogs, but not much else.
I’ll spare you all the feverish details and the ensuing poking, prodding and radiating of the ol’ bod. So far, I’m getting better and I’m profoundly grateful. Anything major changes and I’ll let you know. I need to get busy-there’s important stuff coming up!
One evening, during a dark nadir in my illness, I couldn’t sleep. I shuffled into the living room and collapsed on the sofa to play the endlessly fun, yet wildly unproductive ‘What If...’ game. What if this is cancer, what if this illness costs tons of $$, what will happen to my family if something happens to me? blah, blah. You know the story. Deep in the midst of my fun pity party, I hear the clickety-click of doggy toenails on the floor tile and the bump of the dachshund’s front feet on the sofa’s edge.
Roxy-Doxy, (whiny voice) there’s no room for you. Go back to bed with the Texan!
She was having none of it as she waited for me to pick her up. She promptly dug her way under the blanket and wedged herself between my leg and the sofa cushion.
The warmth of the little dog was reassuring. Made me feel not so alone and her presence lightened my thinking. Even in the dark of a feverish night, Roxy sniffed me out and came to me. I was too preoccupied and anxious to simply turn on the light, but she found me in the darkness. Even after I scolded her and told her there wasn’t room, she waited patiently ’til I picked her up. Could this aging sausage dog be teaching me a lesson about someone who comes along side me when I am weak, pitiful and afraid? Someone who is always there, even when I turn Him away?
And the dyslexic atheist says there is no d-o-g.
He hasn’t met Roxy Doxy.
You’re-never-alone love to all.