Hope is a dog
The world is terrible I know. But here we are.
I keep advocating for hope and I feel like I've said over and over again how resilient it is - this hope.
It's weather-beaten and worn. A child’s teddy held onto so hard it is battered by need. A ragged crochet blanket that was your mother’s mother’s mother’s.
A dog. That would rest her head on your lap as you worked and now the house is so fucking empty that it feels as hollow as you do.
Hope is a dog that died. And now you have to just sit in your dead dog after life.
A life where there's no dog and everything is sludge and everything on the internet is terrible. It's all far worse than your little agonies. Your sudden pain pales in comparison to the world’s.
It's so easy, so inviting to dip your toe into the inky well of hopelessness. To say, why bother, nobody gives a fuck anyway.
To swap your reasonable, carefully worded plea for humanity for -
Can
You
PLEASE
Stop
Being
A
CUNT.
Oh how nice it would be to schedule a nervous breakdown. What a lovely privilege to have.
Alas, the bills keep coming. The bastards keep getting you down. The car needs petrol. The lightbulb in the bathroom needs changing. Your child's school donation is due and so is your GST tax return.
You cannot schedule endless days in bed wailing and thinking about how it's not fair.
Hope is a puppy. Hard work. Keeps you up all night. Shits on the rug. Barks. Won't walk properly on the lead. Bites at the hand that feeds.
Becomes a dog. That you can't live without. Becomes a dog. That makes you get out of bed. Makes you walk. Makes you step one foot in front or the other.
And when you think you've lost hope you see in the corner of your eye a flash of golden tail. You think you hear little claws on the kitchen floor. And you remember what it felt like to have hope.
Soft, kind, gentle.
You can't fall into that inviting despair.
Keep the dog’s blanket at the foot of your bed. Keep tripping on her water bowl.
All is not lost. Close your eyes. Fall into sleep. Meet her in a dream and see her run.
Still holding space in my heart for Twinkle and all of you. My tears feel like a privilege. Cuddling our loyal old girl every chance we get now, in honour of Twinkle, and Hope, and all our best canine loves xxxxx
This resonated with me so very strongly, I can't quite put it into words. Thank you. I'm so sorry to hear about Twinkle. I don't have the words to express how much pets mean to me, so I have no words to match how we feel when they pass. Being (metaphorically) near to those who have this experience and connection to their pets means so much, thank you.