I have been having a busy week. I had my six month checkup for my lung cancer surgery last September, with a CAT-Scan with contrast media, and follow up with the surgeon. I am very aware that breathing is a different experience for me, and not for the better, but I am adjusting. I even gained five pounds, which is a significant for me.
My chronic anorexia, and the experience of being inexplicably abandoned by someone who swore his love and commitment to me, only to be followed up by ghosting me, made the recovery almost impossible. Without love, it took away my strength to recover, and my will to live. But I am made of tougher stuff and survived in spite of it.
Today is very early spring, and I have reason for optimism and looking ahead. I am attaching a photo of my son and my grand-daughter, Piper Starling Connolly, who visited me a week ago, making me very happy. Kensie is standing by my side, where she can always be found.
I am reminded of Mimi’s aria in Act. 1 of the opera, La Boheme, set in Paris, my favorite city in the world. I would like to share it as an ode to spring for all of us, and to my own victory over death and despair. Mimi is forced to face her own mortality by the end of Act 3, as shall we all. But in Act I, there is flirting, laughter, and the hope that only comes in spring. Find it on YouTube to listen to the beautiful melody. The words follow:
“They call me Mimi, but my name is Lucy.
I embroider flowers, roses and lilies on silk.
I am peaceful and happy; it is my pass time.
I like these things. They have so sweet a smell,
They speak of love, of spring, of chimera, these things
That have poetic names….. do you understand me?
Yes, they call me Mimi, why, I do not know….
Alone, I make my lunch for myself,
I do not always go to mass.
But I pray a lot to the Lord.
I live alone and cook for myself. Alone….
But when the thaw comes, the first sun is mine!
The first kiss of April is mine!
Rose buds in a vase, leaf and buds
I watch them. The flowers I make,
They do not have an odor
Rose buds in a vase,
Leaf by leaf, I watch it
The gentle perfume of a flower!
But the flowers I make
Ah me, they do not have any odor!
About me, I would not know how to tell.
I am only your neighbor come to bother you!”
From Act I of the Italian opera La Bohème by Giacomo Puccini
Today, I awoke slowly. Over the weekend, it was time to turn the clocks ahead so we are in “Daylight Savings Time”, that gives us more sunlight in the afternoon and evening. That gives me time to give my dog a second or third walk in the late afternoon or after dinner. It is usually the warmer time of year, so I am out more, working in my garden or talking to the passers by, or my neighbors. My home, and home town, are particularly conducive to this. All I have to do is get up and live and I find myself enjoying the idyllic surroundings with which I am blessed.
I have been more blessed in past times because I had lived with several borzoi, as many as five or six at a time. That is a memory bourgeoning with bliss running over, especially when our litter was born. Then my last husband, Bob, was alive. Bob, who was taken from me almost violently, was ravaged by pancreatic cancer at the age of 56, ten years ago this week in 2021. I came across some photos this weekend during happy times, in particular, the time of our wedding in 2000. We looked so happy. I declared myself a “Millenium Bride”! looked so amazingly beautiful and young. I do not look that way anymore. The last twenty years have been cruel. I have had cancer twice, and lived through the ravages of two nervous breakdowns. Sadly, I recovered and did well on my own after Bob was gone, and missed him terribly, knowing we would have been happy together again, but it was too late. Following his passing, I have just endured ten years of bitter loneliness as I have dated one loser, liar, basket case cripple after another, looking for love. I am a woman who craves human love, never having had it as a child.
Today, I am no longer able to keep borzoi, I am just too frail from having lost so much weight during my illnesses. I am still active, however, in my clubs, I participate in Meet the Breeds when it is in NY City, and I am an active member of the Borzoi Club of America. However, I have ventured into the world of Silken Windhounds and I am currently living with the irresistible “Kensie”, from the Wind ‘n Satin Kennel of Mary Childs in Ohio. A more precious creature with a princess attitude cannot be found. She is loved and adored by all who meet her. She knew instantly I was her person and what her job was. She is a jewel of a dog, so much like a borzoi in every way, just half the size. I will admit, she does not have the “drama” of a borzoi, but in every way, she is just perfect. I was profoundly depressed when she came. My maintenance medications were all increased, and with her presence in the home, and the structure caring for another living creature creates in your life, I began to feel better quickly. The same thing that would have made me happy as a child makes me happy as an elderly woman today.
I would like to share from “Notes from a crazy soul” on Facebook:
“There comes a time in life, when you walk away from it all, the drama and people who create it. Surround yourself with people who make you laugh, forget the bad, and focus on the good. Love the people who treat you right. Pray for he one’s who don’t. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is part of life. Getting back up again is living.”
With that quote in mind, I realize how much I fail to succeed in living a life of wisdom. Instead, I am tested with tragedies that fly by with the speed of a tennis ball I cannot see, but only hear the Hisssssss of it speeding across my face, just missing me, barely. The impact would be damaging, somehow fortunately it misses me, but the effect is the same. This pattern has followed me throughout my life. It began with my parents who created their own domestic tragedy of a marriage and imposed it on their children. It left us, their children, stuck in the place where they failed, unable to go back or unable to move forward. The accuracy of this pattern in my life is stunning. In every relationship, all I have to do is sit back, smile, and wait for it to happen.
One day in 2002, I had the opportunity to buy a young male borzoi. He was very sweet and beautiful, and I embraced him to my heart. I felt a love I never thought I knew. He was followed by several others, including two bitches, and we bred a litter and kept a male. After a short while, I realize I had been changed by this experience and felt protected for the first time in my life. Love had found me at last and changed me forever. When one of those first borzoi died suddenly, in 2008, I became very ill. I had never grieved like that before. In 2019, my last borzoi passed away. I told myself I was fine and was doing well. A myth. A year later I was diagnosed with anorexia and bipolar depression and had to make serious choices regarding my treatment. In addition, between 2013 and 2020, I had cancer twice, each one requiring surgery. My parents’ legacy was still alive and well. They won after all.
Unexpectedly, I met a magical and new man in 2020 who swore his undying love for me after finding me and my dog pictures on Facebook. He told me I could trust him. I was his everything, especially, his future. One evening, a simple conversation turned suddenly aggressive and he left me. It took about one minute and he was gone. Although I begged him to return, and he did, he created another dramatic scene few months later, leaving me alone again. I felt like a fool for trusting him, but he put on a great show of a man in love and I believed it, even in the face of many contradictions.
It is experiences like this that I must be wary of, and not just me, but everyone. I don’t care if you are a man, since I am sure there are insincere, manipulative, ingenuine women in the world, as well. But I have accrued such a long list of men covering the last ten years of my life that I have been a widow trying to exploit me, men who had no love in their hearts for me whatsoever, that I wonder if I should end this quest once and for all. They all had nothing to offer beyond smoke and mirrors, and when they grow tired of their game, they create a scene and leave. I know I have many true friend and it is to them that I must turn. I have Kensie, my new Silken Windhound, by my side, to replace my former borzoi, and she makes me smile. Life is hard but there are little things that make it sweet, and downy pillows on which to rest my head and dream.
Once again in a most unexpected way it is words from a stranger on Facebook that someone shared to my feed that has caused me to take pause and reevaluate my psychological outlook and my interpretation of the most painful events of my life that have transpired starting in childhood, culminating with the death of my last borzoi in 2019. It was a long run on tragedies and I have been beaten down by them, almost to nothing, Yet am very physically strong and resilient beyond anything one should expect to be able to do. Yet here I am still standing if not shattered and shaken to my core. How sad it is to have had to live through these tribulations, most of which were unnecessary. I was not alone in my misery, it was due to profound parental dysfunctionality resulting in our suffocation, and all of my siblings endured the pain with me, none coming out any better for the experience. It threw us into odd directions as adults, along tangents that could never intersect, leaving us lonely and alone forever. In my untouchable wretchedness, God, and my husband, Bob, gave me my borzoi. The year was 2003. By January 2005, the jewel of the kennel, my most beloved Opal (Raybo Opalesque of Byss) arrived. I never saw, nor have ever seen, such an exquisite creature, Nor had I ever loved anything more than I did her, canine or human. She was the daughter I never had. My great love was reciprocated in kind and then some. But perfect bliss was not to be for I am me, and by 19 months she had passed away from an obscure, rare congenital disease. Breeding is not a straight line. The event took place fourteen and a half years ago but it is like fourteen minutes. I ruminate, I cry, I grieve, I write, I speak of her and of my never failing love and the loss I suffered by losing her. I know it is wrong but I could not help how I felt. Fourteen years of grief wrestled me down and I am drowning. I have almost died of grief related issues by becoming anorexic and having cancer twice in seven years. Opal wasted and so have I. I have longed to be where she is. Life is not livable for me without her. I needed her spirit to keep me going but it is gone, and has been gone a long time now.
However, today presented me with something that perhaps made me see it another way, and perhaps made me realize I was wrong. Opal is the best thing I ever had, and the best thing that ever happened to me. It was put this way by a writer, Elizabeth Ammons, from Lessonslearnedinlife.com. She writes as follows, and it appeared in my Facebook feed on December 2, 2020:
“You can shed tears because they are gone, or you can smile because they lived.
You can close your eyes and pray they will come back, or you can open your eyes and see all that they left for you.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see them, or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember only that they are gone, or you can cherish their memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind and feel empty, or you can do what they would want.
Smile…. Open your heart…. Love…. And go on.”
These are words I need to read, study and hear. My grief of 14 years diminishes Opal. I should celebrate her. Her memoir, and that of all my borzoi, should bring me joy, not make me wish for my death. Yes, she is gone, as are they, but in time we will be together again as if no time had separated us. I must have more faith in destiny. My ugly childhood is over. My borzoi loved me unconditionally and gave me back my happiness, or perhaps gave me a measure of happiness I never had. I hope my story touches others who grieve and cannot be comforted, or others who know the hell of a childhood devoid of love.
It is October 2020, and one month ago, I faced three harrowing challenges alone.
The first occurred five weeks ago. A significant other, someone I thought I could love and trust, created an ugly scene over seemingly nothing, and walked out suddenly, without any explanation that made sense to me. My emotional makeup makes the acceptance of events like this virtually impossible without intense emotional pain.
A day later, and one week prior to the separation, I had to take Kensie to Garden State Veterinary Specialists in Tinton Falls, NJ for a series of comprehensive tests. She appeared to be “fading” for lack of a better word, being lethargic, feverish and not eating. It appeared that at that rate, she could have died. I wanted to address this prior to my own upcoming health challenge. Fortunately, all of her tests were normal, adding to the mystery of what was wrong with her. I had to confess that my intense relationship with my boyfriend had resulted in a diminishment of my attention to her, and she was acting out. Since the boyfriend left the day prior to the visit to the vet, it was almost immediately that she returned to the old Kensie I knew before. Only now I notice how very clingy and needy she is emotionally. She came to me in late January, and due to COVID-19, she was accustomed to having me all to herself. Apparently, she liked it that way.
The third event occurred exactly four weeks ago. I had been given a diagnosis of lung cancer and I underwent a surgical procedure to remove the lower lobe of my left lung. Coupled with the emotional trauma of the precipitous separation of the previous week and the crisis regardingf Kensie’s health, I struggled painfully and long to recover.
We all have our little crises, canines and humans alike, over how we want our love, over how much we want, over how much we need, and over what happens to us when we lose it. The boyfriend ran out of the house in a seemingly fabricated rage over a bad case of nerves. Kensey felt she lost my love. And I was in terror over a cancer diagnosis. It brought out the worse in us all.
As I hate to be alone more than anything in the world, having my borzoi, and now Kensie my Silken Windhound, is essential. But I do not do so well outside of a relationship with a significant other, either. But I cannot “fix” that problem as easily as buying a dog. In fact, it is in the hands of destiny regarding how it will be resolved. I have learned I cannot do very much about it. If there were a personal God, He would have had mercy on me long ago having tired of my repetitious prayers and Novenas. He would have found and sent me the man who truly loved me, free of abuse and abandonment. But there is no such man Today, I walk alone through the maelstroms of bizarre challenges and events that mar my life like a scar. For they are challenges and events He has put in my life. Therefore, I must live them alone but gratefully, with Kensie, today. For we are partners in recovery from the brink of death.
This is the iconic portrait of Opal by Maxine Bochnia taken at six months old in 2005, famous on the internet and proudly displayed at trade shows wherever she works.
Note: Although I am writing about a very sad subject in this entry of Blyss Blog Encore, it does not reflect the way I feel in the present. Upon reminiscing about Opal on the tenth anniversary of Her death, my words in quotation are reproductions of documents that described my feelings at that time.
I must look back ten years now to remember the premature death of the borzoi puppy bitch I loved so much, Opal. I wrote Opal’s obituary shortly after Her death and posted it on BorzoiNews-L. Opal is not for public consumption therefore I am not posting this anniversary on Facebook or Twitter, but only mentioning the anniversary in my Blog. For the writing of that obituary and its publication on the BorzoiNews-List, and the first entry in my Blog one year later describing my feelings about my grief, catapulted me into creating Blyss Blog and its continuation, Blyss Blog Encore. It was very clear that my grief was still raw one year later and would fester for many years. There may be some readers who remember Opal’s obituary that I posted that day in the listserv. It follows:
“‘And a lady always knows when to leave.”
As many of our friends know, our youngest borzoi, “Opal” at Blyss, has been ill for some time. It has been heart wrenching to see her fail to thrive, waste away, and know something was wrong but not know what. To know was worse. She fought hard to live. Sadly, she lost.
Opal will always be remembered for her beauty, sweetness and grace, and that her time with us was much too brief. I believe she had a career as a show dog in her future, although perhaps not equaled to that of her great dam. That stopped being important to us, if only she could be well. Opal was happiest when she could be at home, making everyone feel special with her unique style of affection, tapping you with her paw to get your attention, or leaning into you to be scratched behind the ears, or licking your hands and face. Still, I would be a liar if I denied regretting the loss of so many “what could have beens” for her. Truly, she was robbed. With her passing, we lose much, too: Opal’s infectious joy, the heart of our home.
Opal’s untimely departure makes me recall a wonderful line from one of my favorite movies, Fried Green Tomatoes. Ruth, a much loved main character and a beautiful young woman, dies prematurely. Her friend, Sipsy, comforts their friends with the following words:
‘It’s all right, honey. Let her go. Let her go. Miss Ruth was a lady. And a lady always knows when to leave.’
Thank you, Roni and Jennifer Zucker, for sending Opal to Blyss. We shall always be so grateful.
“Opal,” Raynbo Opalesque at Blyss
October 21, 2004 – July 7, 2006
“May we meet again, Dearest Little One.”
Lorene Connolly & Robert Dwyer, Blyss Kennels, Mountainside NJ
One year later, no less consoled, I began the Blyss Blog with these words on July 6, 2007:
“One year has passed since I had to let Opal go. She was my best dog but She soon sickened and died…Today, I don’t understand why or how I am still here….I lost much by losing Opal. Opal meant the world to me… I tried to go to Her many times, many ways, but I failed. I still wish I could die… Nothing I feel makes any difference so there is no point in having feelings. Wishes will not bring Her back, and my wishes stand for less. I have honored and memorialized Opal with my entire being and honors and memorials can’t bring Her back. I have cried myself sick and my tears don’t bring Her back. I have sickened myself into depression and depression can’t bring Her back. I have starved myself and starvation can’t bring Her back. And I have grieved until I am out of grief and grief can’t bring Her back. She is gone.”
Today, nine years after writing those opening words, although I no longer suffer the loss of Opal, I have not forgotten Her. Instead, I am humbled by the memory that the pain of Her death caused me. It transcended the emotional, and touched me in all aspects of my life to the point that I became physically and emotionally ill. I never thought I could be so sick, sick to the point that my life was in danger. There were other factors involved, true, but nothing has ever caused me so much pain before or since, as holding Her lifeless body in my arms.
It is still as sad today as it was then: I lost ten years of blissful happiness with Opal when I needed Her so much. By losing Her life, She lost Her chance to be my dog, when I was Her special human. Moreover, by losing Her, I knew I would be lonely forever for that special kind of special love for me that only She had. For that special love, the kind of love that Opal gave to me, was the kind of love that eluded me in all other areas of my life, not only in my three marriages but going back to the earliest years of my childhood, a time of nightmares, devoid of safety and peace that only nurtured an endless, desperate quest for love as an adult.
When Opal died, Her light died with Her. I was cast into a suffocating darkness from which I could not escape. But life is cruel, and it goes on anyway…. Today, ten years later I am here trying to show Her the respect She is due all the while becoming a different person, a recovered person from an emotional blackout that consumed me for many years that followed. I can recall Her memory now without the horrible pain in my chest that always brought on uncontrollable tears. Perhaps today, I understand fully that She never really left me, that She was here all the while, always right here by my side. Today I have the faith and the courage to look down and see Her as She looks up at me.
For Opal, I wrote prayers and I wrote poems. In particular, there is “Opal’s Prayer” and “Hounds of the Steppes”. They help me to remember she is always alive in my heart.
I am further along on my road to recovery after a freak accident walking Tresor caused me to break my shoulder on May 16, 2016. Most of all, I am finally relieved of the excruciating and relentless pain the injury caused me for a full four weeks. After that point, I obtained a significant amount of relief and ability regaining motion of my right arm that had been in a nearly frozen position across my chest held up in a most unnatural way by a sling that day by day was becoming an increasing instrument of torture itself. Two weeks later, on July 1st, I was told I would be able to drive. Now my life has returned to normal except for the long hours I must endure of a new torture, physical therapy. But I will not complain about that.
Moving on, while holed up alone, isolated, in pain, and very depressed, my mind played its usual repertoire of tricks. First, it told me food did not taste good if I was in pain so I dropped ten pounds that unsettled all of my friends, family and doctors. I do that, I just do. I still do not want to eat. What’s there to eat about? What’s there to eat for? And extreme physical pain only transferred itself to the already existing emotional pain of being alone (a widow) reminding me of it in a new way. Still, I hung in there eating as best I could, it only was not enough.
Now that I am feeling better, I am able to appreciate how lucky I am, lucky for my lovely home, my remaining close family members, my close boyfriend, and most of all my two borzoi, Jelly and Tresor. Those are the things I have to focus on, as the memory of the pain dims into the distant pass more and more every day. Although it was frightening and horrible, and it isolate me, now that it is over I have regained my equanimity toward life and have achieved a better balance. Perhaps sometimes it takes a calamity to underscore your gifts for you, perhaps they disappear under the cover of mistakes and tragedies and you think everybody else has it better than you do, but to believe that is wrong. I am able to raise the blinds in my bedroom every day now free of pain and give thanks for that and so much more.
Regarding the true focus of this blog, which is not me, Jelly and Tresor have been through a lot due to my accident as well. However, they have ended up in a better place. Jelly charmed herself into the heart of another dog acquaintance I have had for many years, who has asked to take Jelly with her and her lovely dog when she takes him out hiking in the Watchung Reservation which is almost daily. Moreover, I found a wonderful man to walk Tresor for me, and that relationship is working out well for him, and so for me, too. Tresor is a dog who loves to be walked, and he looks so proud and full of himself as he saunters down the driveway with his dog-walker. He is such a show-off! The world is all about him, so he thinks. He loves his life, and all the people in it. It is worth everything in the world to me to see him happy this way. When he comes back, he lavishes me with his affection, never missing an opportunity to rub his head on me, or reach out to me with his paw. He wants to be close to me wherever I am in the house. My heart is full of a special love for Tresor. Every day lived with Tresor is a gift, and there is no pain in the world that could have destroyed that. We co-exist in a bubble of dog love bliss, I know. I know it will not endure forever, but while he is here, I will not allow anything to come between us again. We share a sacred bond. I never knew a dog could make me so happy as Tresor does. And Jelly is right there behind him.
Nobody likes to be attacked, especially by people close to them, such as friends, family, lovers or co-workers. And for myself, it is especially painful to be attacked over something I wrote on Byss Blog or Blyss Blog Encore because I write so honestly and make myself vulnerable. And it is a very rare incident, happening only one other time before today. It was by a woman who had a lovely Majenkir borzoi whom I had befriended, been very kind to and always would have always been there for her.
There seems to be no end to the permutations of friends’ malevolencies. In my case, it began with my own mother, who could not help herself from ripping up her young. It was sad to experience that for so long, since she only died very recently. Yet she began a pattern that others so easily slipped into and I let them, and it never stops.
There is one thing I must always remember. People behave badly. They do the wrong things. They inflict emotional pain in the process and do not care about it one bit. It makes them feel good in so doing so they do it again.
When I enter into these relationships they are so happy and full of promise yet in a short time fighting over misunderstandings begin and emotions turn raw. I have surrounded myself with my beautiful borzoi as a buffer and a distraction from it, as I have currently done. I am grateful for Jelly for her love and beauty, and her breeder,N24, for her generosity of spirit toward me. Other breeders, too numerous to mention here, have lavished me with support and kindness. Thinking of them should be my new focus, not relationship disappointments.
I reacted strongly to my mother’s recent passing away. It made me emotionally very ill and I foresaw my own imminent passing. I received treatment for this condition at the time but wonder now, why – what was the point? I should have been left to fate and perhaps died. But people meddled and pulled me through a dark tunnel only to emerge for more of the same betrayal from weak imitations of her acts, painful nonetheless. So as the friends whittle away in number, my grasp on Jelly and my borzoi friends strengthens and I am grateful for them. I owe it to Jelly and my good friends in the borzoi breed to rally myself and be strong against the attacks of others who want to criticize and tear me down.
After a long wait, a respectable passage of time, an appropriate period of grief, grief for the passing of all the Blyss borzoi, and much soul searching and wondering if I really could do it, I have taken possession, thanks to the generosity of a dear and long time friend, a borzoi breeder in upstate NY, of a beautiful borzoi bitch, almost five years old, to be my companion dog. Her full name is: Ch Kasharra Bibikov Moscova, “Jelly”.
When she was just a pup, nearly five years ago, her breeder called me and told me she had a puppy bitch that she believed would be just perfect for Blyss, and she wanted me to come and see her. The puppy’s name was “Jelly”. My husband said no, basing it on the amount of room we had and the number of borzoi currently living with us. We could not take on another one and do it right, the way we both said we would want to do it. We had avoided the temptation of impulse purchasing of borzois, crowding, not being able to afford premium dog food and top of the line veterinary care when necessary. Having too many borzoi at once would impact that. I had to respect his wish to say no, and it was a very sad day when I delivered that message.
I would often see Jelly at the shows. She was truly lovely in every way. I often wondered what it would have been like if we could have had her. I only heard good news about her, how easily she had finished her Champion Dog title, and how much breeders and judges alike held her in such high esteem. Recently, I spoke with two breeders who had handled her in the ring for her breeder. She is well on her way to being a Grand Champion. It all seemed surreal but the idea entered my mind one day to inquire regarding her to her breeder, so I gave her a call. We spoke for a while, then I brought up the real subject of why I was calling, that being “Jelly”. I knew she still had her, Jelly had never been sold, so I asked her if she would still want to place her with me. I was overjoyed when she said yes.
With the health problems I had been burdened with over the last year, I wondered if I could have a dog. I was in treatment for an eating disorder at the time this conversation took place, and I asked if I could put off taking her until after I was released. I made being healthy enough to have a large dog a goal for my own wellness, and there were times when the idea of owning Jelly was the only reason I got out of bed in the morning, or went to a food store. I have problems doing the most basic of things, whereas I can do difficult things with facile. I forget to eat and sleep and get very sick as a result. With owning Jelly as my goal I got my priorities in a healthier order.
It has been one week since I have had her. My boyfriend, LT is back, and Jelly loves him, too. He adores her, so we are a very happy family together. Jelly seems to be very bonded to us, and I adore her. She eats well and enjoys her walks. I have even taken her to Watchung Reservation and let her run off-leash in the Scouting Field behind the old Trailside Museum. There are two fields there, actually, with acres and acres of open land divided by a line of trees, and dogs love running in them, and they are rather safely located, away from roads.
When the warmer weather comes, I will see to it Jelly is properly introduced to all the neighbors. Everyone in the neighborhood is expecting her. I love her so much already. It’s like I have gone back to the beginning. Before there were the Blyss Borzoi, even before Opal. It is a new start. Jelly is a new day. I have a new life now. It is hard for me to believe I was ever the person I wrote about in the original Blyss Blog.
I have had many dimensions of interruption in my life over the last five months since my last borzoi, Paris, died. It first concerned my mother in the final months of her life. This was followed by my own reaction in the form of a small breakdown that required time spent in an IOP (Intensive Out Patient) hospital based program for two months from which I was just released last week. I should be very pleased with how well I came out of this emotional swan dive and lived to tell the tale. If I can come through all of this, I am optimistic for all of my readers to weather whatever form the storms and tempests of life hurls at them. Be brave and brace yourself for anything for it will happen.
I am still waiting for my new borzoi, Jelly, to come to Blyss. All of my friends in the breed I talk to about getting her have nice things to say about her. Two friends, breeders, know her well enough to have handled her for her breeder in recent shows. I even know someone who had a stud dog that bred her but it did not take. She was bred twice but neither time produced a litter. She is ready to be a pet and the consensus is that she is perfect for me. And so I wait.
It is perhaps more difficult to believe that I have either rightly or wrongly decided to forgive my boyfriend LT and he and I are a couple again although with many changes to our original relationship. He lives elsewhere so I can maintain my equilibrium living on my own, something which I still need to master. It is my destiny which I must accept, that’s all, without being self-destructive. I can do it, I only think I cannot. Jelly will be my pal when LT is gone. However, now I know he will return because he could not stay apart from me any more than I could live alone. So much for him being a good “loner”. I don’t think so.
People, both friends and family alike, have criticized me of late, and I reconsidering those relationships seriously. Going forward, I intend to push back and reproach anyone who dares to again. I am the decider of my life, and that is the ultimate fact. Recently, it seems even more “friends” are going to be eliminated for providing me with their unasked-for opinions about my relationship with my mother, my boyfriend, or whether or not I should get another dog. People can’t help themselves by eliciting forth their uncensored thoughts essentially slashing me to shreds. My new response will be to say good-bye and walk away. Here is a quotation I came across recently by the author, Paul Auster. “After all, if you cannot share your secrets with your friends, what kind of friend are you.”