Today is a significant day. Being an eternal romantic and sentimental soul, dates and remembering and reflecting are important to me. Firstly it is my favourite mom’s birthday. My mom is only 68 which is pretty young when you think her oldest grandchild is 20. This means she will be a great granny one day. In fact I made her promise me the other day she would only die after I turned 60. She promised and I felt so ridiculously relieved even though no one actually gets to make that promise but I believe her. Its true!
My mom is one of the classiest people I know. She has been through plenty tough times in her life with the inevitable highs and lows but she has always kept her gentle but steely dignified strength. She is one of the four corners in my life and the person I trust most. I love you Bella Mama.
Then it’s my Christian birthday only I am not sure what to call myself anymore? What do you call a person who is a big fan of Jesus and all who he represents but doesn’t do church or religion anymore? I am a nomad of sorts, a faith refugee without a home. I am part of an ever increasing tribe who find themselves homeless yet connected to a bigger group of people around the world who are fellow misfits. I even have a pastor who lives in the computer somewhere in the US. Hello John Pav! We believe in 100% equality and acceptance for all. We are pro choice, pro love, pro tolerance. We don't have all the answers. We question a lot and that's OK. In my social work studies we are taught constructivism. We all construct our own truth in context and there is not one universal one size fits all truth. We are taught people are experts on themselves and true respect means allowing someone their own choice without trying to persuade them to follow yours. I have grown up in my faith. It has been 17 years now and I no longer feel unqualified to have my own opinions or ideas or trust my own discernment when it comes to my relationship with God and my faith. It is very liberating. I miss my friends at church and I remain undecided about Christmas morning and if it’s hypocritical to go or to not make a big deal and enjoy the fellowship and music. I have 2 special friends ironically both pastors who I trust implicitly and who love me warts and all so between Mish and Jo I am sure I will have a place to sing silent night and eat a mince pie. (Actually I hate mince pies, so farty!)
And lastly, on this day at 3:00am I sat with my Ella and help her bring her pups into the world. It was magical and terrifying and devastating to have so many stillbirths but joyous to welcome the Novitzas Nine. I poured my life and soul into making sure I didn’t lose a pup and loved them far more fiercely than was wise. I knew the pain of parting was coming but how do you hold back from loving 9 fluffy puppy breath little furballs? The family knew from day one we were NOT keeping a puppy. No frikkin way. Gary and Rebeka fell in love with Molly and Lincoln and Jackson. Maya loved Rebeka most. Daniel wanted Lincoln too. Sofie loved them all but also had a soft spot for lazy Linc and feisty Evie who was Paulie’s BFF. George was loved by all. And me? I only had one little boy. The smallest little guy who weighed less than half a block of butter with the white patch on his chest. The little one who lifted his face up to be kissed and then turned it so you could be all European and kiss both sides. I knew saying goodbye to him would be hardest of all and I knew he needed an amazing forever family. I prayed really hard for families for all of them and I prayed that if I should keep my Paulie, it needed to be so obvious. So one by one they left till I was left with only my little boy. I heard nothing from the buyers although months later I found tons of messages in a FB in-box folder. Two weeks later someone wanted to buy him but I couldn’t part with him. He was ours and I now had a male rottie with a name like Paulie. Gary tried hard to give him a manly name but the world knew and loved him as Paulie and it was too late.
He is forking naughty and destructive and has cost me a fortune from damaged property and huge vet bills. He was at deaths door with Parvo and going to say goodbye to him when the vet thought he was dying was one of the hardest things I have ever done. If Gary hadn’t said lets give him another 24 hours I would have let him go. He suffered so and they only let me take him home later that week as they had run out of options with my guy. In hindsight he just needed his family before he could get better.
Happy birthday my Paulie. You are pure love. You make us all happy and when the world feels crazy and ugly you are the constant. Happy birthday to all the pups. I will never do a litter again but it was an incredible experience and keeping my boy was the only choice I could make. Although I just can’t do dog spit and kissing on the mouth I think I might just admit to finally being a dog person. I LOVE my boy.