Pain is the gift. Not a tsunami of it, but a reasonable amount. I too had Goldilocks trauma, I reckon. Too little to grace me with empathy and wisdom early on, I fought for every bit of compassion I might possess.
Biscuit is wearing a badge of healing victory. I witnessed an attack and ran in, thinking I could help. Instead, I vomited on the dogs, which distracted and separated them (I was the shiny, squirrel-like object). In the after-event, both wore cones. It’s time to wash those dishes and hoover the floor…
All of this resonates with me - from the dog attack (been through that) to the days that nothing happens. Recently, I heard a small propeller plane drift overhead and the sound brought back a profound comfort - a memory of being bored, in summer, laying on the lawn of my parents' home, hearing that far, drifting small plane sound up there in the blue. Yearning so much for the nothingness of that experience. Thanks, as always, for your words.
"The empty hours" is a great phrase, Steve. One I think could be a title of a poem or essay or even serve as a writing prompt.
I am so sorry to hear about poor Biscuit and am relieved he is healing up. It's terrifying to witness that level of violence. I hear you about the juxtaposition of the ordinary with this jarring incident of innocent suffering.
It's hard to hold all of that in one heart, one mind, one body. For those of us who are highly sensitive, it's vital to step away, as you have, and simply regroup.
Thank you for sharing all of this, Steve. Sending you and Biscuit and your family hugs.
Beautifully written Steve, and so true. My older son just went through a similar situation with his gentle pup. It ended badly (won't go further), but his dog is ok. It was quite traumatic for the dog and my son. One never knows...one moment all is fine, and the next chaos. Life is so strange that way! Glad your pup is ok.
Sending healing energy to Biscuit and to your family. Beautiful essay. I think about rough times/good times/ boring times similarly to how I do the seasons of the year. Somehow it takes all of them to allow for contrast and for appreciation. I walk around during the hottest summer days really feeling like I hate the season, but then when it’s cold and we have an ice storm or even days of very cold rain, I appreciate summer. I don’t know that I appreciate trauma per se but there is something beautiful about a boring day/week/etc when we’ve come through a really hard thing. With that in mind I wish you some really boring days to come, and the time when Biscuit is all better and the story becomes how you all got through it together.
Sending love to Biscuit. And this is a lovely poem. We had a violent animal event last week that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to talk about. Maybe I will once I’ve stopped crying intermittently throughout the day. I keep asking, what do I do with this image that won’t leave me? Where do I put it? In the sink? With the dirty dishes?
Dog fights/attacks are incredibly violent and scary. I’ve been through one that left me altered for a long time. I’m glad your pup is okay.
And well, that aside, this is just beautiful. Beautiful beautiful.
It happened so fast!
Yes. It’s so suddenly viscous.
Beautiful poem.
Healing energies to Biscuit and you all.
Oh no Biscuit!
Pain is the gift. Not a tsunami of it, but a reasonable amount. I too had Goldilocks trauma, I reckon. Too little to grace me with empathy and wisdom early on, I fought for every bit of compassion I might possess.
Glad doggy dog is okay.
We were lucky it wasn’t much worse. Thanks.
Thank you for this.
Thanks for reading!
Biscuit is wearing a badge of healing victory. I witnessed an attack and ran in, thinking I could help. Instead, I vomited on the dogs, which distracted and separated them (I was the shiny, squirrel-like object). In the after-event, both wore cones. It’s time to wash those dishes and hoover the floor…
Hahaha wow!
All of this resonates with me - from the dog attack (been through that) to the days that nothing happens. Recently, I heard a small propeller plane drift overhead and the sound brought back a profound comfort - a memory of being bored, in summer, laying on the lawn of my parents' home, hearing that far, drifting small plane sound up there in the blue. Yearning so much for the nothingness of that experience. Thanks, as always, for your words.
I will be holding on to that propeller plane!
"The empty hours" is a great phrase, Steve. One I think could be a title of a poem or essay or even serve as a writing prompt.
I am so sorry to hear about poor Biscuit and am relieved he is healing up. It's terrifying to witness that level of violence. I hear you about the juxtaposition of the ordinary with this jarring incident of innocent suffering.
It's hard to hold all of that in one heart, one mind, one body. For those of us who are highly sensitive, it's vital to step away, as you have, and simply regroup.
Thank you for sharing all of this, Steve. Sending you and Biscuit and your family hugs.
Thanks, Jeannie! I like that phrase, too, but hadn't thought of its possibilities as a title. Thanks!
Oh, NO. I hope Biscuit is okay and recovers quickly. I hope you all get some calm days ahead.
🙏🙏 Thank you! He is in good spirits this morning & not grumbling too much about the cone.
Beautifully written Steve, and so true. My older son just went through a similar situation with his gentle pup. It ended badly (won't go further), but his dog is ok. It was quite traumatic for the dog and my son. One never knows...one moment all is fine, and the next chaos. Life is so strange that way! Glad your pup is ok.
So very true! All best to your son—that’s a lot to handle.
I’m sorry, Steve—poor little guy; relieved he’ll be okay.
When I can’t find my feelings—when I need to cry but can’t—your writing finds me, and then, I can.
Britton, I hope you know how much that means to me to hear. I write in hopes of eliciting just such a feeling.
And I hope you know that every time this happens—your writing speaking truths to me I fail to utter—I recommit to writing truthfully. Thank you.
Sending healing energy to Biscuit and to your family. Beautiful essay. I think about rough times/good times/ boring times similarly to how I do the seasons of the year. Somehow it takes all of them to allow for contrast and for appreciation. I walk around during the hottest summer days really feeling like I hate the season, but then when it’s cold and we have an ice storm or even days of very cold rain, I appreciate summer. I don’t know that I appreciate trauma per se but there is something beautiful about a boring day/week/etc when we’ve come through a really hard thing. With that in mind I wish you some really boring days to come, and the time when Biscuit is all better and the story becomes how you all got through it together.
Thank you, Billie! Here is to the boring days!
Sending love to Biscuit. And this is a lovely poem. We had a violent animal event last week that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to talk about. Maybe I will once I’ve stopped crying intermittently throughout the day. I keep asking, what do I do with this image that won’t leave me? Where do I put it? In the sink? With the dirty dishes?
Seriously 😭
What a beautiful and insightful peace. And what a terrible thing to happen to Biscuit. I hope he heals swiftly and fully, in body and spirit.
Thank you, Terri!
So lovely because it’s so true.
I was just sitting outside after a tough day at work, and you got me with this one, friend. Well done.