on my lap drinking his carrot juice, and then succumbed to sadness,
asking to be placed back into the extra-large light blue snowflake
hut he shared with Coconut, where he grieved.
The vet never returned my plea for his Baytril but antibiotics
don't cure heartbreak so no big deal and I preferred having the time
to be with Raj anyway.
Last night we didn't have a good feeling about Coconut, staying up past one p.m. watching "Boston Legal" on Netflix until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, but she was relaxed on my tummy,
getting petted, combed, and hydrated with her carrot juice.
It just wasn't enough.
I can barely keep my eyes open and it's 8:30 p.m. Pacific Time
but Raj needs more feedings and I think I've watched all the episodes of "Boston Legal" so maybe I can find some of
"HOUSE" on HULU. And my psychic friend from India who contacts me every time a piggy passes also asked today were
they breathing O.K...I cannot remember which post from the
site I know him from but he always senses each time we lose
a pig and has never been wrong.
Today, Lashes and Janie both called. Both times, Raj was
listless intially but by the end of each call, he was perky and
moving about, which brings the MOD HEALINGS TO 4.
And our dear friends Fairy and her family in England;
dear Ingrid, Helmut
and their eight
meeris in Bavaria... so much love...
It is Amazing Grace to find oneself in the
heart of loving consolation
If I wake up and Raj is gone tomorrow...
It is possible I will not be O.K.
Then I will take Raj and CoconutPie to a nearby
smallish mountain with a view of the San Juan Islands
and bury them together in the soft, velvety pillowcase
CoconutPie is in instead of having them cremated and
spread in the apple orchard with the others.
I love this place in the nearby Chuckanut Mountains
you can drive up to it on a rough, dirt road but I have
all-wheel drive and after windstorms it resembles
Mt. St. Helens, which is what I am beginning
to resemble now.
And perhaps when I howl and scream - which I will - no one will hear "MY BABIES! MY BABIES! MY BABIES!"
Because it is rising rapidly to the surface,
grief gathering into a perfect storm,
a very loud scream
that will resemble
a pack of wolves,
beneath a full moon in the
woods on a mountain
with a view of islands
where killer whales
blow before spyhopping
and bears begin waking from hibernation
from all the noise as eagles
watch from safe, soaring heights and
clouds gather dark screams of grief
meant for no one else to hear.
January 1, 2012
6 Dancing Piggies.
Screams of Sorrow.
Love of Friends.