New dog. (via This Year’s Love)
This was a terrified, young and very small Israel about an hour after he became mine. What a happy accident that was…perfect timing! No way would he fit between your legs in the front seat of a car anymore. He’d much prefer your lap anyway.
I feel bad that I brought him home without warning, I did a lot of shit back then I wouldn’t do now. But despite it all, my dad ended up loving him just as much as he ended up loving Judah. Aside from me (because I am THE QUEEN in Israel’s eyes) my dad is Israel’s favorite person. It would have a lot to do with all of the food scraps he gets from him.
But anyway—while I lay in bed today feeling sorry for myself, I have Israel’s thick muscular neck to wrap my arms around. I have his heavy sighs of contentment being with me to remind me that it’ll be okay—even if life is nothing like what I expected—or wanted.
Last night as I washed dishes I had to pray. I didn’t pray for understanding, I didn’t pray that everything would magically change and get better. I prayed that I would just learn to accept the shit sundae I’ve been served. Love and romance isn’t for me. Money isn’t for me. Living alone isn’t for me. I just have to endure it all. Fuck it.
