Lucky for all of you, I woke up today, lighter. Can’t exactly say why (although I have a good idea spending six hours talking to one my nearest, dearest, Susie Chandler, had something to do with it). But it feels like a fog has been lifted, a bit of hope restored. I think acceptance has finally taken hold and I’m truly ready to move on. I know there will most likely be some bouts of regression, but I’ll take it for now. (Although, the coffee shop decided to play Stevie Nick’s greatest hits. Not helpful, but I’ve made it through 3 songs with no meltdowns. I think we are in the clear).
So, I decided to write about Biscuit today…truly the love of my life. He has been by my side for the past 8ish years. Even when I would go on my extended wanderings abroad, we would be right back in our groove day two. I usually had to get through one day of the cold shoulder, but then we were good. He’s a bit of a pouter like his mom.
Again, clearly biased, but he truly is special. Since the first time we took him out and about, he has always attracted attention from all sorts. We would take him everywhere we went and almost without fail, we would look outside to see a whole family posing next to him for a photo, or see someone sitting next to him, loving him up for longer than what would usually be the norm. One time we looked out the window to see a man living on the streets curled right up next to him sleeping.
Probably my favorite story was when I was writing at a coffee shop in Denver. Biscuit was outside attracting his usual crowd on the patio. I walked out to find a man sitting next to him, clearly drunk, clearly without a home, talking to him and stroking his head. I asked him if he was hungry and he promptly requested a bagel with eggs and sausage. I came back out with his requested entrée to find Biscuit completely drenched…and it reeked. “Um, sir…did you maybe pour something on my dog”? “Oh, yeah”, he beams, enthusiastically pulling out an empty bottle of Wild Turkey. This dear man had poured an entire bottle of Wild Turkey on the Biscuit. “It’s really good for his skin and his coat”, he assured me. I couldn’t decide whether to yell at him or laugh. I mean, think about it, for this man that bottle of Wild Turkey was a precious thing. And he sacrificed it to moisturize my dog’s skin. I feigned annoyance, handed him his breakfast, thanked him for his kind gesture, and took my very wet, very content puppy to get a bath.
Only the Biscuit.
He is a bright, bright light that has the patience of a saint. The part I hate is that time is his enemy, as well. As I slowly get my strength back, he is slowly losing his. But to see his resilience, his spirit, his smile that is ever present, even when his body is failing him. There is no question his presence has changed the world, at least it has mine.
Good morning dear Brooke. I hope you slept ok and got back safe and sound. It was so good to see you and hear your struggles in person, vs phone/internet. You are such a bright, bright light. Truly, you are. So smart, such passion, and simply strong. I am honored to have you as a friend. I hope you realize that your presence can change this world. Time is your enemy of sorts. You need it to happen now, but that is not the plan. We need you to have the fucking patience of a saint. Whatever that means. But keep fighting, maybe eat a little more and know that you make a difference. I love you. – Susie