Puppies!!

There are puppies in my house. Five squirming little fatties with gummy eyelids and squealing mandrake voices. Five fuzzy black worms. Five rolly polly little balls with curly fur and round bellies. Five little hamsters that will grow up into five hyperactive puff balls that will fly across the lawn and tumble all over each other.

I can't wait until their tiny legs are strong enough to walk on. Have you ever seen a baby poodle run around? Cutest. Thing. Ever. Of course, I still need to name them all. Four little boys and one teensy little girl who just might not make it. The third puppy who came out has spots of brown on his face. When he was born I tied his umbilical cord with a piece of cinnamon floss, and in that moment fell deeply and utterly in love with him. The tug I feel in my chest when I look at him surprises me. I'm not the type to get attached to things. Even things that I say I love...I guess I don't *really* love them after all. This is something different. This feeling kind of makes me think that maybe, just maybe, all of those 'loves' that I felt before weren't really 'loves' at all. Maybe I was forcing them because I so badly wanted something to love. I had a gaping wound in my heart that I wanted to fix more than anything, and I let myself pretend that I could do it.

This is actually the second time I've fallen in love with a dog...over the summer I met Russell Simmons. He had these two twenty-somethings with him who looked like they were related to him. I don't know- and honestly, I don't really care. Meeting stars isn't really my thing. I snapped a few pictures of him, got bored, and wandered over to the young adults with him. My boss chatted their fucking ears off, while I crouched on the ground and played with their dog. It was a sweet, tiny little pomeranian named Chance. He wore a diamond encrusted collar, but he wasn't a snob. He layed down on the concrete and let me rub his fat little belly while the people above us yammered on about HBO (The daughter of that woman who plays the therapist on the Soprano's had come over, and she was revealing secrets about where the show was going. Yawn). The thing is, for the past four years I've felt this great big hole opening up inside of me- this light devouring *thing* that's been eating away at me, leaving a yawning emptiness in its wake. My throat's been sore from all the tears I've swallowed, my eyes constantly burning. A break down has been waiting patiently on the edge of my heart, quietly putting its face between my ribs and looking out, gritting its teeth. Lonely. I've felt so goddamned *lonely*. But looking into those glossy black eyes, so round and sweet, I could feel something healing. I wanted to tuck that puppy between my lungs, use it like a band-aid over my heart. I wanted to hold it and keep it warm and tell it I loved it I loved it I loved it so fucking much. But we had to leave, had to get back to the office. My heart broke with every step I took away from that animal.

Some of the emptiness is still there. I need to fill it up before I can be truly happy. It's like happiness is a coat of paint that won't stay on me unless I'm primed for it, like it just falls into the cave of my chest to be devoured by the numbness, and will continue to do so until I fix myself, until I smooth the wound over.

But it is getting better. So much better. I feel lighter. I feel like maybe I couldn't have loved those puppies so completely if my heart hadn't already been opened up by my newest friends (and the old friend who I fucked over so badly before that it wound up fucking *my* mind sideways and upside down).

Hmm...I should go get ready for my guitar class. Don't want to be late. I missed the last class. Got in to an accident. More on that later. I guess.