April 12, 2007

3:44 p.m.

I Cleaned the Closet!

I know you don't believe it, but I promise you I spent several hours yesterday afternoon and evening doing the big deed. It's a little-ish closet, but it has several good sized shelves, some hanging clothes, and stuff on the floor. I even vacuumed and mopped the floor inside. Now I have a big pile of things to take to the Salvation Army, a few to take to Rose, and some fabric to send to Red in Texas. It's a joy to pull the African curtain aside and see all this space.

The coolest part was, I looked through the stash of old photos I had from my dad's collection, and I found some documents that told me to whom my mysterious wedding band belonged.

What? I didn't tell you about the ring? Well, I can't remember if I did, and I'm too lazy to look through previous entries, but I've been wearing this beautiful old wedding band that has fancy, faded initials engraved on the inside. They say:

"One ring to rule them all, one ring to bind them --"

Wait! Sorry, wrong ring. This one says:

"SCMW to F McC"

Samuel Miller Wilson was born in 1861, and he married Florence McCormick, who was born in 1862. This is Florence's ring, given her by Sam; she was my father's mother's mother!

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In sadder news, Steve (remember the fellow I was dating two years ago?) ran over his dog last night and had to put him down.

It was one of those just plain unfortunate things -- I guess that's why they're called accidents -- he's handling it very well, though he's weepy today. Travis was his biggest of 3 dogs, and he wasn't exactly young any more. About a year and a half ago, Travis was going through some kind of mysterious disease, losing weight and hair and getting very lethargic. The vet never did know what it was, but the dog finally responded to antibiotics and got better. But at that time Steve thought Travis might die, and he had started looking into breeders where he might get another puppy. He has this powerful connection to that particular kind of dog and has had four of them in succession. Though he still has two dogs, he inherited them both from people who died, so they're not the dogs of his heart. He's already talked to the breeder in Maine (where he got Travis and another dog) and arranged to have a new pup shipped down next week. He can't drive to Maine because of his limited eyesight, but he can drive down the highway towards the airport in Hartford, and I'll meet him at a Park and Ride and drive the rest of the way to pick up his precious cargo on Wednesday.

Because he's retired now and can be home more, he's looking forward to spending more time with the puppy as it's growing up. Travis came when he was still working at the Social Security office, and had to be sequestered in the basement for eight hours a day. Consequently he was never very socialized, and though he loved Steve, he barked at everyone else and didn't want to be touched by visitors. Steve wants to expose this one to lots of people from the start.

So he's excited, underneath the grief; he's walking in the woods where Travis loved to walk, letting tears come and honoring the years they had together. He insists that each of the four dogs he's had, had the same soul, and is sure this one will be his dogspirit returning again. I said, but if the puppy was already born -- ? He said someone who believes in reincarnation told him that there's a word for when the same soul overlaps into two lives. I guess anything's possible, eh?

Anyway, I can't imagine coping with running over your own dog... he's doing remarkably well, I think, feeling remorseful but not beating himself up.

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We're having a bit of sleet today, though it hasn't been as bad as forecast. Supposed to come through this hour. I seem to have been at the computer all day, which isn't good for my back, but I've accomplished a few things. Which haven't included cleaning the closet, because it's already done. Heh.