It is very difficult to be in so much pain, especially so much so that I cannot drive and am therefore rather isolated. However, this could be so much worse, because many people – friends – people whom I never would have thought cared – have called, come over to see me, and offered to help. I have been very moved and touched by this, since I am more prone to the belief that I have no friends, or to focus on the bad outcomes I have had with past friends more than is necessary. It is especially those in the Plainfield Kennel Club and individuals in the Borzoi Club of Greater New York who actually scheduled a meeting in my house, and the Borzoi Club of Central New Jersey who have shown great kindness.
Also, a long time friend, N33, whom I know from the Mountainside dog parks, has been coming over with her dog to pick up Jelly so she can enjoy her walks with them in Watchung Reservation. Words can never express my gratitude to this woman for the kindness she has shown to Jelly.
Jelly’s breeder, N24, has great concern for the youngest borzoi in her kennel. I want very much to go and visit, but neither my sister nor my former boyfriend will take the time to bring me there. Also, breeders are very closed about problems with their dogs, I have observed, and perhaps she would not want me to make such a visit, or say anything about this to her. Where I think words of support and sympathy are called for, perhaps she would find them inappropriate. There is a saying that sums this up. It is: What happens in my kennel stays in my kennel. I am not a very good follower of that adage. I tend to want to talk about everything to everybody. I know S24 broke my heart when she did not take me to the Borzoi National Specialty Show in Kansas City, KA in April, I have warmed toward her again and wish to comfort her if I can if her borzoi remains ill. But I am trapped here and my voice-mail messages have gone unanswered, so in a way I am forced into silence.
I should err on the side of silence more often. It will not be easy. Well, at least I did not write how broken up I was over the Memorial Day Weekend to spend most of it alone and in great pain. This was what it was. Like so many problems I have had in my life, the only solution is the inexorable passage of time and the next visit of my former boyfriend, who suddenly looks like a saint sent to me on a special mission from heaven.