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.
