THE LOST DOGS OF LANGSTON.

Entry 20.

Okay so I finally made the jump. I posted pics of Tinky. Big Number Twenty, the Judgment Card in the Tarot, which indicates that a definite STEP has been taken.

I had to make a decision and it came down to this: I just can't bear to think of her hurting Angelo in some kind of fight. Or Sophie, for that matter. Sophie can hold her own, but she's still a smaller dog and she has a sweeter disposition than Tinky does; sweeter to other dogs, that is. Tinky is very sweet to her human but she really wants to be the only-dog-only-pet-only-animal-in-the-home. She wants all other dogs to get on a spaceship and travel quickly to a galaxy far, far away.

But I just can't arrange that for her right now. There are too many to save, and I have to deal with them right here in this galaxy and in this neighborhood.

This morning a smaller version of Little Dog appeared with Roscoe and his merry band of large children/cousins/own grandpas. I don't know where all these dogs are coming from. Dog Middle Earth or somewhere. A spaceship in Fyffe. Or maybe the neighbors had a fight and the wife isn't "allowed" to feed them anymore because "they'll keep coming around." Or maybe a neighbor who was feeding them died. Or went to La Digue for two months to escape the covids and America. Who knows? I don't go poking around the neighborhood at all. I stay right here and avoid the covids, as I should. I always have a dog or a cat in my face here and I haven't got time to be poking around the neighborhood trying to figure out everybody's business. Literally, I just don't have time for that.

Now THERE'S some virtue signaling for ya.

Here's some more. I took the small dog and somehow named him Patterson, that's the name that suddenly went through my head when I was out there trying to convince him to come to the barn with me. I guess because he pattered into the dog barnyard when I finally remembered the coping mechanism and took the food in there. He has a very thick shaggy coat which is really beautiful and he's all colors brown. Looks a little like a collie mix. Probably about 40 pounds or maybe even less. He's super pretty.

Someone would really love this dog. That's why I forgot about trying to round up the others and just decided that if I can save one, it's better than none.

At first he wanted in the fence but then he wanted out again so he could go try and hump the dog that's in heat, but later he came into the fence again and then tried to go out again but later came back. so he was waffling the whole time but I could tell he needed a little push to decide so the last time he came in I just locked the gate and that was it. He'll go with the vet whenever she comes out here to get the other ones immunized which will be this week I think.

So, if we can save one, that's better than none. Even if he has to be a barnyard dog by himself for awhile. You have to kinda think like this around here when you are doing it improvisationally and without much of a handbook. Like with the rest of life. Sometimes you just have to put the pieces together in your thoughts with whatever you can scrounge up that's good, or positive, or whatever makes sense or works. So that you can kinda have something set in your head to sort of spur you on, or something like that, something as a mental guidepost to keep on with life and keep going. Even if you don't get to herd them all into the barn and save them all at the same time, including Roscoe, because you are just not animal-magnetism enough or because he doesn't think you're cool enough or because he just hasn't decided that you are worth following around night and day yet or whatever it is that's blocking you saving him and all the others. Which could be any number of things. It will drive you crazy if you try to figure all this out. Believe me. I did try. I'm still kind of trying. But for now I have to figure out what works that's pertinent to the actual situation of what I can actually get to happen.

For me, "saving one is better than saving none" works. At least that way you've done SOMETHING. And if that little dog has to spend the night in the barn by himself, at least he's safe from those bigger dogs and not going to be attacked by them for trying to hump Cinderella's much larger puppy and/or sister, and he's not going to be out there running around on the road where he could get hit by a car, etc. See, you know it's not perfect, but you start listing pros and cons and you sort of settle on the pros to make yourself feel better about it because you're the only one who can do that at this point. There is not time to call a therapist or life coach right now when you are trying to make sure everyone has food and water.

Which leads me to another big chamber of dreaded thought, that little evil snarky voice in the back of my mind somewhere that sorta snarks You are a white privileged girl with a college degree and YOU SHOULD BE DOING MORE.

But you know, I just get so tired. And I also have migraine (it's getting better though but we're not all the way there yet) and fibromyalgia and they say that self-care is very important these days and I sometimes don't have time to exercise because of running back and forth trying to save all these dogs

DON'T HAVE TIME, YOU SAY?

But everybody has 24 hours in a day! You should be starting THREE non-profits to save animals!!!

(Yeah, and part of that time is sometimes used to make excuses for why we didn't do such-and-such.)

Oh no they don't always have 24 hours in a day, either! Time is all relative and squashy now, remember? Your "time" is not really the same as my "time"...and all that new physics hooey, and stuff...some "time" is shorter than others...I heard it on Radiolab!

Well today I spent some time taking a short nap in the afternoon. I think that counts, either as self-care or as a legitimate activity for someone who is used to feeling a lot of pressure to accomplish things all the time. The energy just left my body and I had to lie down and drool. But I was responsible first. That takes some doing, trying to get everybody settled and safely inside before I lie down for a nap. Call me paranoid, I don't care.

On my deathbed I'll be on the phone with someone worrying over who's going to get which dog and what things to do for which dog that are that dog's special things that they'll need to do for them. Someone will have to make a list. Someone will have to make promises. I hope they'll keep them, lest I turn into a haint and have to come wheelin' up out of their haunted highboy at night, just to make sure they do.