Calming Cues

Calming Cues

Calming Cues 150 150 goadmin

I’ve finally figured out what will help me slow down a smidgen with everything: work, ambition, volunteering, skill-building, catching-up with friends (an endless task, not to sound like a douchemonkey).

I’m getting a puppy. The puppy that I so secretly added into one of my older posts but never correctly identified as MINE AND COMING HOME IN 2 WEEKS.

But she is, and she is!

My e-friends, this is:

Rumi

Yes, she is named after this Sufi/Persian poet. Yes, his poetry is mind-blowing. Yes, I am using a “boy’s name” for a girl pup. And yes, she will be my little muse. /end of insightful but cheesy explanations/

She is a cockapoo (or, in angry dog forums, a cocker spaniel/poodle mix) who I’m getting from a very good friend (from the Toronto poetry scene, and thus the poetic name makes even more sense.) She is the most adorable thing on this earth and I might shank you if you suggest otherwise.

As per the rules that dictate my neurotic personality state, I’ve been going into puppy-research-overdrive. So far, the only thing I’ve managed to spend money on is a few toys, whereas everything else is yet unpurchased.

I’ve been doing extensive research on everything from insurance (PetPlan, COME TO CANADA SOONER), to crates, to crate-training, to nutrition and grooming products. I want the best, but I am a facking student, so I’m making concessions and asking for discounts when I can.

However, all of this is mainly useless to you, dear readers. What will become paramount is that I will be very busy with the new babe and don’t know how often I’ll be able to update. But I will work pictures in often, I assume, just based on the fact of how much I think about this dog after having met her twice. If I reacted this way with a potential boy who I would like to possibly date long term, he would run screaming the other way and leave shards of broken glass in his wake.

But dogs love that sorta shit.

So here’s hoping I’ll be a good pet mama (I will, but ermahgerd is it nerve-wracking), and will eventually quit stressing over my resume in lieu of pee and poo everywhere and anywhere in my bedroom under my expecting morning feet.

Ah, the choices we make.

POEM

everyone wants to be

the exception, but

nobody wants to be

made an example of.

you want to be the survival

rate.

you don’t want to be

the story mothers

talk about with

gulps seeded in their bellies,

with tears pooling in their mouths,

briney and wet.

everyone’s love

should last like love locks,

like reckless abandon

and a 5 dollar mechanism

that makes your ethereal

immortal.

but even love locks

get land locked,

become weighted by

the unbearable lightness

of burden,

and the keys,

the keys swim

because your eternity

still needs a chance.