“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” I’ve carried Wordworth’s words awhile. I've worn them around my neck. Today I breathe a few of my own onto this page with my whole heart. Wordsworth would say, “The Poet thinks and feels in the spirit of the passions of men… he must express himself as other men express themselves…” with “a greater readiness and power in expressing what he thinks and feels.” It’s about the expression, man’s or woman’s, keeping it simple. Relatable. He would say, “…in proportion as ideas and feelings are valuable, whether the composition be in prose or in verse, they require and exact one and the same language.” So Mr. Wordsworth, Do your words a poem make? Today my heart stopped breathing. So did the heart of my dog Rain. She was fourteen years old with a heart of gold, a heart that failed. But did it really— when she gave so much love away? One month ago, my mother passed. Rain traveled across the state line. A good eleven hours in the car each way. Away from home eleven days. The trip was hard. For both of us. Rain suddenly seemed her age. On the third day of the new year, a Sunday, Rain couldn’t breathe. I was ready then to let her go. But oxygen and medicine, a hospital stay and a dollar or two could fix her good as new. For a moment. Just ten days after my mother’s death, I couldn’t do loss again. But I knew Rain’s time would come. And now—“The rain is over and gone!” Yet somehow my heart breathes on.
Raindrops fell and lightening thundered. Water gushed from the rooftop of our home without gutters, and my dog Rain hid beneath the couch where I sat. Thirteen years ago, someone found her, just a puppy, walking in the rain. She may have some post-traumatic stress. Then three years ago, I found her swimming in the rising hurricane waters of our home. I’m sure that didn’t help.
Rain crawled out from under the couch and looked up at me. Her whole body shook. I patted the throw pillow beside me, and she jumped up on it. I covered her up with a blanket, held her with extra pressure, and breathed into the top of her Chihuahua head. She whimpered so very softly. Her shaking subsided. Sometimes the world is noisy and scary and overwhelming, I thought. Sometimes a tight hug and the closeness of someone’s breath is all you need.
My chihuahua-terrier Rain reigns over my house. Princess from the day I brought her home, prancing as if on parade with delicate feet and ballerina legs. These days she has ascended to the throne, and by throne, I mean, wherever she damn well pleases. Our king-sized bed. The top of our couch cushions. Kody and I, loyal subjects, cater to her whims. We adore her.
Thirteen years later, Rain’s once-black face and throat have become a sophisticated white, she takes advantage of her beauty rest, and she still loves unconditionally. And Martha? Well, I owe her for the arm-twisting, she has been a dog-sitter for me, and we’re overdue for another girls’ trip.
Ummm, so I realize that I could’ve categorized this post under R for Rain during this A-Z blogging challenge, but I needed a Q. Ummm, now I need an R post. 😊 And this is why it’s called a challenge and why I’m happy for another day. If you liked reading about Rain, perhaps you would enjoy my other posts. It’s all about gratitude this April, and I’m thankful for Rain and Martha and Mona and much:
A is for Apple and B is for Boozer and C is for Champagne and Chanel No. 5 and D is for Dad and E is for Epiphany and F is for Faith + Gratitude = Peace + Hope and G is for Great _______ and H is for Hatbox and Honeysuckle and I for an I and J is for Jesus and K is for Kody and L is for the Lovely Lauren and M is for the Marvelous Misti and a Dirty Martini and N is for the Numbers and O is for the Oversized Owl and P—Prayer and My Grandmother’s Pearls
As a soft April rain kisses Houston, I recollect another cloudburst or two, one in particular. An Alabama Rain, singing me a lullaby, eleven years ago.
I stepped off the plane in Mobile with my friend Martha. As we descended the escalator to claim our luggage, our friend Mona waited, waving from where she stood next to the carousel. Through the airport windows, dark clouds covered the Alabama sky, and raindrops fell. With bags in hand, we dashed from the airport to the car, the rain drenching us all, our spirits remaining high and dry. However, the rain was relentless throughout our five-day stay. The three of us, Martha, Mona, and I, went out to eat in the rain, we shopped in the rain, and just hoping the sun might show its shining face, we drove by the beach in the rain.
One day after shopping in picturesque downtown Fairhope, we hopped back into the car and Mona said, “I wanna take ya’ll to this new little country store between here and home. The two girls who opened it are too cute, and so is their store.”
At the store, a two-story, clap-board house with wrap-around porch, nestled amid enormous Live Oaks and backing to Mobile Bay, we met the owners and browsed. With a note of Southern charm, one of the ladies said, “We were thinkin’ about havin’ a wine-tastin’. Would ya’ll like a glass of wine?” I couldn’t refuse hospitality like that, and neither could my friends. With beverages in hand, we moved outside to the covered front porch to sit a spell and watch the gentle rain.
About that time, a precious, tiny black puppy, pranced up on petite ballerina feet, flipped-up tail wagging, collar connected to a leash held by her foster dad. We admired the cuteness, and the man struck up a conversation. “This little girl was found walking in the rain,” he said, “so we named her Rain. I’ve kept her for the past week, and she’s a good girl, but I have three dogs. These ladies here at the store are going to take her picture and put her up on their bulletin board to help me find her a home.”
Meanwhile, I picked up the eight-pound, eight-month-old Chihuahua/terrier mix, and she licked my face. Martha laughed, “Crystal, I think you need that dog.” She continued, “I think you need to fly her back to Dallas….I’ll dog-sit whenever you need me…”
I grew up with a dog, but my kids had missed out on that experience. Drew would be starting his senior year, Lauren would be a sophomore, and she had been angling for a Yorkie. A dog consideration rested on the table, and this one did need a home. No doubt, she was adorable. So I took the man’s phone number, thinking, If I wake up tomorrow, thinking about that dog, I’m going to take her home.
Well, not only did I wake up the next morning thinking about the dog, I couldn’t sleep at all that night, the puppy on my mind had wiggled its way into my heart. Martha was right. I needed that dog.
Like Martha said, I brought the puppy home to Texas from Alabama. Evoking my inner Paris Hilton, I carried Rain in my newly-purchased dog purse right onto the plane and stowed her below the seat in front of me. She was that tiny and that perfect.
The breeze has blown Rain and me from state to state, city to city. Still an excellent traveler, always up for the next adventure, always ready to “go.” Eleven years later, she has survived the rising waters of a hurricane and homelessness more than once. Rain loves hotels, awaits me with her waggity tail each day, and continues to teach me a lesson or two about being happy anywhere, as long as I have my people.