Temptation.

He was a gift I was able to resist.  He was my ex-husband re-packaged. 

While it's hard to believe another potential man is gone, wrapped up in another relationship, in another way it's a relief to realize that I resisted something that was very enticing, but not right for me.

He lived in a place that I wanted to live.  He made lots of money (at least he alluded to this).  He was friendly and seemed to have a large external network.  He played "host" on many occasions.  He was technical.  He was living with tragedy in his life.  He enjoyed playing.  I wanted all of these.  But I couldn't fall in love with him just to have them.  I needed to be in love with him, to share them.

But on occasions I heard echos of my ex-husband in him.  I felt pressure to be with him.  From him.  And I wanted to.  Yet I hadn't developed a physical attraction to him yet.  It felt like a dating relationship would be imbalanced.  There was neither a physical nor emotional bond, yet he wanted me to date.  I put up a boundary and said that I couldn't.  For several reasons I couldn't.  If I had taken down that boundary, I think we would both be miserable now.  Even if there was something that could have been right, that would have been wrong.

Maybe he was on the right track though.  As far as the dating thing is concerned.  Maybe I should just stay single until the right guy shows up.  That way, I would be healed from anything in my past.  Or it wouldn't be in my face as it is now.

Mountain Meadows

Well...this isn't the most stunning photo of the day, nor the best I've ever taken. But it leaves me feeling warm. Probably warmer than the day actually was. You see, I love mountain meadows. And I love being there with my dog. The only thing that would make a mountain meadow more wonderful than it already is, would be to share it with the man that I love; wherever he may be.

Late this morning, I was driving myself up the Guenella Pass scenic by way. I visited the pass for the first time about 10 years ago. It's hard to believe that I haven't been back since, considering I spent less than 15 minutes there and wanted so desperately to come back and hike.

Today, I went alone. It was the only choice I had. But as I drove the road by myself, I was glad I took a chance to take this journey by myself. I know it sounds corny, but my heart felt like it was singing to be so close to Colorado wilderness. Really that's all I need. To be close. Or to feel safe with someone else as we travel cross country, off trail.

I like to be away from the crowds, and on this fall day, almost no one was interested in driving a road that peaked in color weeks ago. Even the passing cars were hard to hear over the stream. I felt so lucky.

The road had changed. I remembered it being bumpy and broken. It was a dirt road past a certain point back then. The Ford Explorer was zipping so fast and bumping all over the place, back then, that I feared we might bump right into Georgetown's water supply. But today, the road was smooth. It was rennovated. I had an easy drive to the top and back down. Best of all, even though I was alone, this gave me lots of time to think. To think about the direction my life is taking. I realized, I'm tired of driving these roads alone. I'm tired of hiking alone or wanting to try something new alone.

Of course Mira kept me company. She was a good companion. She always wants to go where I want to go :) And coincindentally will leave when I want to leave :) All kidding aside though, I want a human companion who can share life with me. So that I don't have to do it alone.

I miss her in one way or another every day.  Wish she was still here.  Hope that I did the right thing.  But today, my "Trinity" thought, came to me via Mira.  Mira is my 5 year old German Shepherd.  When Trinity was alive, I used to wonder what each of them did during the day while I was at work.  Trinity must have been in the bedroom writing a memoir or solving the world's energy crisis.  Mira was probably sleeping in a pile of tennis balls in the living room, twitching with dreams of chasing them.  I never really thought Mira was that bright.  Just loveable.  Trinity was the genius.

But my opinion of Mira has changed.  On Sunday, she was one of a few dogs to pass the herding instinct test at Valdamar Farms.  I was impressed to watch her figure out a technique and see the sheep as a group.  I didn't even know what she was supposed to be doing.

Today, I took her for a walk down in Golden.  I taught her how to heel at my side.  There are definitely things to work on, but her precision in turning to the right is amazing.  Her confidence and trust in me as a handler, when other dogs pass, is incredible.  She is happy to be praised and happy to work well.  I don't know if she's a genius or not.  I don't need her to be.  The smile she put on my face today and last Sunday is enough for me.  Love you Mira :) 

Paw Prints

Today I received a card in the mail from Deer Creek Veterinary clinic.  When I saw the envelope, I thought it was either a condolence card or a letter telling me that her ashes were available for pick up.

I opened the envelope and it was a card.  But when I opened it, I saw an ink paw print of Trinity's.  I was overwhelmed.  I can't explain it.  It's just pure grief.  I've never seen something and cried and been brought back to that raw moment of death so quickly.

I remembered burying my face in her shoulder fur.  Holding her head, and the whole front of her body in my arms.  The doctor injecting a pinkish liquid into her hind leg.  The inability to ask if "that" was the stuff that would make her heart stop.  For some reason, I thought there was a pre-injection.  Then realizing that it was happening.  Not being able to watch the plunger run out of liquid.  Burying my head in her fur.  Hearing her say, "Her heart's still beating.  I gave her enough for a 200 lb. dog.  She has a very strong heart."

I wondered if I should pull away to let her know it was okay to go.  I decided not to.  She was smart enough to know when to go.  It hurt to hear that she had a strong heart.  That physically her body could have kept on going.  I didn't want it to stop.   I sobbed into to her fur and cried "Trinity.  I love you.  I love you Trinity" over and over again.  It was like a bad funeral.

"She's gone," the vet said.  I still held her for a few minutes until I could feel that she was really gone.  It was surreal.  I stood up and wiped my eyes.  The rest of the afternoon, I tried to be happy.  I even took Mira and Kahlan to the lake, with Jon.  I laughed and smiled as Kahlan bounded through the wake after a stick and swam for the first time.  I sympathized with Mira who retrieved the stick, but really wanted to go back to shore.  I could have good dog memories for a short time before the grief would come to haunt me and remind me of all the things that I didn't do with my best friend.

Now...Mira is my best friend.  She has been with Trinity and I since she was one and a half.  She's a little over five now.  Kahlan is Trinity's daughter.  I am having trouble bonding to her.  Because really all I want is Trinity and Mira.  Any variation, it's hard to imagine.

Last week this time...

 I learned this mind-set growing up.  Last year this time, we were in Gatlinburg.  Or last month at this time, my cousin Holly was still here for the summer.  I realized today that I haven't played this game yet with Trinity and her life.  I've been so caught up in her loss, that I forgot.  I'm glad I forgot.  But what the heck.

Last week at this time, I was deluding myself with her health.  A week ago Tuesday, she had a seizure.  I came home and she didn't come out of the bedroom.  That was not abnormal, so I didn't panic.  Then I heard a whimper come from the bedroom.  It's the only whimper I've ever heard her make.  I found her on my bedroom floor, having a seizure.  She had pee'd on the carpet.  I moved her away from it, so she wouldn't lay it.  Then she didn't get up.  She didn't get up for 3 hours.  I called Jon and told him he would probably have to come to my house in the morning and carry her to my car for me.  I laid down next to her a lot and cried.  I begged her to get up.  I told her if she wanted to live, then she needed to get up.  I went to bed late, and shortly thereafter, she stood up and walked.  I was thrilled.  Beyond words.

So let's continue the game.  A month ago, she was not my Trinity at all.  Even further away from the one I said good-bye to on Saturday.  Something had gone wrong with the medicine or her brain.  She wouldn't look at me.  I felt like I had lost her already. 

Two months ago, she was in a semi-normal state, after her "trinity" of seizures.  She was shaking my hand, licking me in the face (with horrible breath), jumping up on the bed, and walking okay.  She wasn't normal, but she wasn't too far off.  I could live with the new Trinity she had become.

Three months ago, I believe, she had her first seizure.  Jon and I think it was a heat stroke.  She had it on one of the hottest days of the summer.  I was so relieved to hear he had stopped it.  I was in Alaska on a cruise.

Four months ago, she was my Trinity!  I think Kahlan may have been living with us still.  She and Kahlan played very well together.  I was extremely impressed with how gentle she was with her daughter.  She would wrestle with Kahlan, sometimes knocking her down and sometimes allowing herself to be turned over on her back.  Kahlan was fairly serious about the whole thing, but Trinity only gently bit at her legs and mouthed her neck.

Five months ago....

Six months ago she was going to bite Tessa.  I was so angry with her.  I made her pay for that.  She ruined Tessa's show career by putting a notch in her ear.  She wasn't allow to go to Jon's for three weeks, which meant she got very little exercise.  I feel so terrible over that.  It was my fault for not holding the leash tight enough.  It was my fault that she could lunge at all.  It was her hormone's fault for causing her to lash out in aggression.  Her hormone's were all over the place from the spay.

Seven months ago, she had just been spayed.  I spayed her because I didn't want to take the chance that she would develop a life-threatening uteran infection.  I didn't want her to have anymore puppies, because she wasn't the best with child birth and had developed a mammary gland infection with her last litter.  I also hated the bleeding in the house when she was in season.  I think the spay was too hard on her.  I'll never spay an older female again.  I'll take the chance on the infection and deal with it the best I can.  She was never the same after the spay.  Her coat became overly thick and she couldn't blow it.  Her emotions were all over the place.  Really laid back, then suddenly aggressive.  She wasn't the same.  I liked her personality just fine before. 

Eight months ago, her last litter of puppies were going home.  I was in San Diego.  I desperately wanted the long haired puppy, but I wanted a show puppy too.  I miss Bella, but I am glad she has a perfect home in Boulder.  I wish I could move in :)

Nine months ago, it was the new year.  I had just returned from Christmas in Ohio.  We didn't spend her last Christmas together.  But we did spend New Years :)

Ten months ago, Trinity was almost ready to have her last litter of puppies.  It was her easiest litter to birth and her first litter with Ronin.  He was the first dog to breed her naturally.  The whole thing was natural.  I loved it.  Every moment of it.  Each and every one of those puppies were special to the core.

Eleven months ago, she was getting ready to turn six.  I was panicking.  I felt like she was getting old and I couldn't imagine my life without her.  At first I counted wrong and thought she was getting ready to turn seven.  I was relieved when I realized she would only be six.  I would have at least four to five good years with her.  I hoped she would live to be thirteen or fourteen.  One of those lucky few. Because then I would have as many years left as I had already spent with her.

Twelve months ago, she was bred naturally for the first time.  What a long ways we've come.