Monday, January 26, 2015


Clearly there was nothing to keep me from being happy, in this apartment on a sunny street with trees while all the rest of the planet shivers or cowers, but a doggie.  You who knew Mimi, or Happy, can clearly remember what incredible dogs they were, the terrible loss in Paris where, if you have to go, you might as well go in one of the best hotels, or the shocking and unexpected bereavement in New York, where Mimi had her hair done to look her best for the doctor, and then he killed her.  It was not an easy road, the one of Loss, including a caring, supportive and handsome husband, whipped away young.  But always, or at least usually... there was a dog.
      So having finally settled, I think, in this pleasant apartment on a street that nobody knows is here, so one can be quiet and contained. and there are adorable neighbors sharing the front porch who were ready to put up a wire fence so my new dog would not go through the gaps in the railing, I got one.  Darling she was, with great black eyes that followed me to see if I was going to neglect or abuse her.  And I did neither.   And in the night I stroked her belly to soothe her, and probably myself, as it has been a long time since I was able to really live in the moment, although the moments have been empty enough to dwell in.  But I, strangely, have not been empty enough.  That's a lie. It's my circumstances that have not been empty enough.  But I can't write about them here, or at least not yet.
     Suffice it to say that the little girl, MimiDos I named her, was not Mimi #1.  Of course it would have taken a while to help her become anyone.  But look what happened with my children.  I couldn't take another chance.  Besides which I had the help and support of arguably the planet's best person besides Carleen and Amber, Ellen Feder, who no wonder they made her the head of Share, there's nothing she won't take on.  She of course made me think I should keep this new little dog, and for some moments I did, not counting the minutes I wiped up the doggiepuke on the new rug. But afterwards I understood that it was not the love of an animal that I missed but the love of anything-- it has been a really lonely time.  Beverly Hills, though clearly the most physically comfortable and privileged place on the planet at the present time, is curiously more empty than New York where you can make yourself feel a little better because you know there's one child down the hall who would talk to you if her door were open, or Jeannie in the basement taking care of everything, or Cerene coming to change the sheets and bless you.  Beverly Hills would be a great setting for a murder mystery where no one knew the victim was dead.  
     Ellen drove me back to the pet store where they had all these creatures from the shelter, and it was their decision that I should return MimiDos completely.  And it was the right one.  It was not so much a dog I really loved as the dog I had lost.  Mimi was taken from me while we were still in the throes of our youth.  Or at least one of us thought we were.
    Fortunately I do, I think, love life as much as the life I had lost, though perhaps not so much at the present moment, before it fills with activities and creativity and the things that make life Life.  As for MimiDos, somebody will take her and give her a home, and it will likely be a happy one.
     May the same be the outcome for me.  Wait!  That sounds a little like self-pity.  All I really need is a good bath and a grooming.