Been a while.  Yeah, I'm still alive, in case anyone wondered.

I've been working through my grief and now I have reached the point where I have taken on another canine refugee from an abusive "owner."

We don't own dogs.  We love each other, if we work at it.  They give and we take, sometimes, and often, we do not realize the value of what we have been blessed with.  A dog's love is forever.  They will love you if you abuse them. I do not, nor will I ever, because I know the value of a good dog. I despise people who abuse dogs and cats.  It is, simply, cowardice.

So now I have Gemma, a mix breed Standard Poodle/ Golden Retriever.  Sounds strange, but she is beautiful.  And big.  Fifty pounds, at least.  She is a warrior, I think.  And a lover.  Great combination.She suffers from separation anxiety and her "owner" beat her when she would misbehave when left alone.  My vet with a heart of gold got her about two days after I had her put my little friend down and held her for me until the majority of my grief passed.  I won't lie.  It was Hell for a while.

Terrible thing to beat a dog.  I reached down rapidly to pet her head yesterday and she ducked.  She doesn't quite trust me yet and we are still checking each other out, but she is extremely smart and very gentle and obedient and I think we are going to become good friends.

Gemma is not Pix's replacement nor substitute.  Gemma is her own dog and a new friend, I hope, for me.  One may never replace dead friends.  Only honor them and always remember them.  I remember fondly every dog I have ever had.  I loved them all.  I still do.  I always will.

And Vikki, I got your emails, in case they have blocked you.  We can't converse here, but if you access the blog, at least you'll know you got through.

Once again when I go to sleep, they will slime their pathetic way into my bedroom and mess around with one thing or another that belongs to me.  I could care less.  They have stolen almost everything I valued and I am completely unafraid of dying, so if they kill me in my sleep, as they totally lack the balls to confront me above ground in daylight, I'll pass through the door into the last, great adventure.

Another one of my flying buddies took it in last week.  Prostate cancer.  We're dropping like flies.  Our day is done.  But we cut a swath through the world of aviation in our time.  We were good.  A few of us were great.  Nothing they can steal can take those incredible years from me, or change one iota the friendships I made or the respect I earned.  Nothing.  That's what matters in life.

All the whiners and parasites can fuck off.  Stand on your own feet and seek your goals and life may just cut you a break. Walking around with your hand out thinking the world owes you shit guarantees a life without self respect.  When death is about to come knocking, and she always does, if you have no self respect, you will have lived for naught.  You will not be mourned.