Some people will know what I mean when I said I felt ‘too mental for therapy today’…..even though therapy was turning up at my Trailer (since I keep feeling too bad to do the bus ride) I decided to draw a map to show next session….even though previous therapists have not been massively happy when I do art for them. It’s a map showing my childhood …when my dog was savaged by a Staffy…and had to be pts….connected to three and a half weeks ago when my dog was savaged by a Staffy….and is just about recovered physically from the attack/surgery. Art therapy of my own devising…
When I feel really, really bad I deactivate Facebook. I don’t have the energy for other people’s lives if I barely have energy for my own. Facebook feels like spilling to a fairly wide audience, whereas my blog is pretty much a private journal. A couple of people will see it, but won’t feel the need to comment, they don’t know me, so my ridiculous thoughts are just released from my chest and i feel calmer.
Much as I do ‘things’….I write, get published…I ‘art’ (drawing and painting keep me as sane as I’ll ever be)….. I also don’t do things. I rarely see people. I don’t ‘go out’….except with my dogs. Noodles and Chicken are my pack. I’m a member of a pack. So when Noodles got savaged by a Staffy three and a half weeks ago, it was one of the most horrible things I’ve witnessed. Yesterday…after weeks of worry, vet visits, pet hospital visits and admission, surgery, panic…. I was reassured that the wound has healed well…the puncture wounds too…his heart, lungs, respiration are back to normal. It’s a huge relief. My Trailer is back to normal….I flattened everything so Noodles couldn’t literally ‘bust a gut’. He is more anxious, I am a lot more anxious, on walks. The fact the attack happened a hundred yards from my home, that the dog that attacked pounded towards us along that hundred yard path to the High Street. The fact the owner is an idiot. Which is the thing. I haven’t had the energy to be angry about the idiot who wasn’t controlling his dog and walked away scot free because I was carrying my injured dog and looking along the road for my other dog who had slipped her harness in panic and raced off. While a passer-by took us to the emergency vet, that idiot went home with his dog. That idiot hasn’t had weeks of worry, travel, vet bills, sadness, horror at seeing his dog savaged. Now I am angry. Finally I am angry. I understand when some senseless idiot harms an innocent6 victim…how that victim needs to know the idiot was punished and prevented from ever doing that selfish stupid act again.
After failing to dig a comfy hole in my Editor’s Chair, my assistant has moved over and fallen asleep on the job. You just can’t get the staff these days….
Sometimes all you can do is sleep and dream…..
Tomorrow my son is coming over to collect a painting I bought off him last year. It’s one of the several artworks of his selected for a group art show in London. I’m a proud parent.
I’m looking forward to seeing him, and as you can see from the photo I took on a recent visit, he will be looking forward to a stimulating conversation with me: the whole family hang on my every word.
This drawing is one I made for Olivia’s Story, which appears in my book:
The dog belongs to my editor Eve Arroyo, and this is her story:
Olivia is a mini-schnauzer. She’s white so there may be some other genes in her pool. Her story is that when she was about one-year-old she fell from a second story roof and broke her leg. Apparently, her owners just abandoned her.
Eventually, she ended up at a private animal shelter where her leg was repaired, but because of nerve damage, they had to amputate it.
We arrived at the shelter, coincidentally two weeks after her surgery, with specific wants: female, young (preferable a puppy), non-shedding, and small. After losing my big dog earlier that year I was ready for a lapdog.
The young man showed us several big dogs, but I was clear I wanted a small dog. He went to talk to someone and came back saying he had the perfect dog: female, four-months-old (it turns out she was actually a year old), ten pounds, doesn’t shed, and, oh, yeah, she only has three legs!
It was love at first sight! She is a very happy, and loving little girl. She’s practically glued to my side or lap when I sit down. She’s very well behaved, and is so happy when we have company. She just loves everyone she meets.