Wednesday, December 24, 2014

mitzified (7/28/14 & 12/24/14)


mitzified [1]

by down ward dog

it’s a mitziry
mitzichevious and sweet
it’s a mitzimeanor when it’s time to guard a treat

mitz[t]irious, yet open
mitzifying, small
it’s a mitz[t]iry that she’s no mystery at all


[1] martino, j. (7.28.3.14). book 78 round trip. © 2013 by wellnesseducation.us.

5 months later, on 12/24/14:

Dearest Mitzi,

Although I only knew you for six months, and only saw you a dozen (or so) times, you brought me a lot of joy and peace.  Because I experienced you through Tracee, I was able to feel what she felt whenever she’d see your adorable little face.

I loved, and I will miss, the way that you would dance and jump and spin-around, whenever Tracee would walk in the front door.  I loved the happiness that would pour out of Tracee, every time she told you that you’d been a ‘good girl.’

I loved, and I will miss, the way that you would watch over Tracee, as she moved about the house.  You always knew where she was, and you would follow her from room to room, making sure that she was safe.

I loved, and I will miss, the way that you would curl up in your little doggie-bed, on the couch.  You were loving, yet distant; strong, yet inescapably vulnerable.  You loved getting your belly rubbed (and getting your little bootie scratched).

I loved, and I will miss, the way that you would snuggle yourself to sleep (with us) at night.  I’m sorry for the day that I scared you, when I dressed-up in the Batman costume.

Most of all, I loved, and I will miss, the way that you lit-up Tracee’s life and brought joy to her every breath.  She took you everywhere: to work, to the beach, on the bike… and on oh, so many walks around the neighborhood. 

Instead of focusing on the circumstances of your departure, I am going to try to focus on the many blessings that you inspired, the many smiles that you invoked, and (most of all), your love for your ‘mom,’ Tracee.

I’m sure that, if we multiply my feelings of loss by a million, we would not come close to the feelings that Tracee must be feeling at this very moment.  Her heart is broken, and I don’t know what to do.  I wish that this was a bad dream, and that I’d wake up, and you’d be in Tracee’s arms again.

I hope that there is some kind of doggie-Heaven, if only to allow you and Tracee to experience one more walk around the block.  Thank you for being you, Mitzi, and may you rest (and strut) in Peace.

Sincerely,
Lenny 

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