It is Sunday and I write.

Today was nearly an abnormal day.

The alarm went off at 5:15 this morning.  That was normal, but the remainder of today proved to be a very different kind of day.  It started with no rush to the shower.  There would be no rushing to get the dogs for a walk, no rushing through the walk, no ‘peddle to the metal’ on an uncrowded early Sunday drive to church, no contemplation of scripture, no observation and appreciation of Father’s sermon.

Today, Harry, my sweet wheat-colored 24 pounds of loving canine was sick.  Earlier this week the diagnosis was Lyme disease, but upon the second trip to the vet’s for emergency treatment a couple days later, Harry’s pancreatic enzymes were five times normal – painful pancreatitis.  Today was his first full day home after a stay with IV fluids and meds at the local pet hospital.

Harry was drugged and not happily so, more stuporous than happy.  His eyes were ‘off looking’ and seemingly not seeing.  His ears were ‘off’ too.   He either couldn’t hear or had no comprehension or care that a response was required.  His energy was nil, so nil in fact that he didn’t even care to tinkle.  He would hold it, and hold it, and hold it some more, and care none the less.  By the look of things, he was oblivious to the hurting pressure of an undoubtedly excruciatingly full bladder and also oblivious, so very thankfully, to the severe pain of the angry pancreas.

This dull being was not Harry, not the Harry we know so well, not at this moment in time anyway.  So now you can see why no rushing was on my agenda today, just Harry and me at home together, all day.

Like I said, it was nearly an abnormal day.  I watched Harry:  Harry sleeping, Harry trying to walk, Harry eating bland meatballs stuffed with pills.  Harry didn’t seem happy, but the pain was dulled, and I knew that he knew I was right there with Him, not leaving his side.

My home and neighborhood were quiet and by all external appearances, calm.  Internally there was another story.   Harry’s insides were raging a battle.  And my insides were raging one, too.  The same one I rage every day now.  In this respect, the day was as normal as normal can be, for these abnormal times.

I don’t have days like this…days when I just stare at, comfort and pet my loving dog.  As it turned out I really wouldn’t have one today either. I tried to act normally, tried to keep my mind engaged in the here and now.  I focused on groggy Harry.  Every so often I carried him to the cluster of trees in the cul de sac, because, after all, perhaps I forgot to tell you, Harry couldn’t walk. When he slept close by and I grew tired of staring at him, I weeded through reams and reams of paperwork, magazines, junk mail, and important mail.  I organized this year’s completed tax files. I prepared for tomorrow at the office.  I cooked, well…that’s what I call it.

I started watching political YouTube videos and reading.   Did I say reading?  That isn’t really what I meant.  I mean reading, and rereading, and referencing what I read, and reading again more and more again.  More to read here and more there and then more reading, all the while my mind absorbing frantically.  My heart accelerated and my breathing became quick and shallow. I started thinking that some of Harry’s meds might do me some good.  I looked away from the words, casting my eyes to any distant object, the refrigerator, the rhythmic rain, a piece of pottery, my bare feet.

I wondered exactly when I became unable to watch main stream media news. When did the bias hit me so hard I first sat in disbelief?  It is still a shocker to me, especially when there is so much at stake.  Why is the press so unethical that we cannot trust them on virtually anything of substance?  More importantly, when did I fall into this vast bog of incessant information that I must have, must have and analyze, must know until I become logy, angry,  helpless, and can take no more?

I now sit numb, but too alive.  I am numb. I am in shock. Every day I am numb in shock.  I pet Harry, the Harry who now seems to know more than I gave him credit for.  After all, he is only capable of being numb now, too.

For a while today I lived a delusion.    I thought today might be a day of respite.  I didn’t expect peace so I didn’t even hope for peace.  I contemplated what a day of respite could be like.  That a day of respite could actually exist.  A day of respite could be good.  A day of respite could restore not only Harry, but also calm my mental and emotional chaos.   But the chatter in my mind, like the clashing chatter in the world, will not, cannot cease.  The state of our very close world has hijacked my mind, my respite, my solace, and indeed my peace.

I read the following, among others.

1. The rise of the ‘alternative right’ (what an intentional misnomer) party in Germany, and its recent anti-immigration referendum on Merkel – while our very own president bestows accolades for being on ‘the right side of history’ for her stance and acceptance of refugees.
2. I read about the rising up of America’s young, boisterous and forceful student social warrior class, more indoctrinated than educated, more ‘hormoned’ than intellectual, more unintelligent than we need, and more entitled than they have earned.  I thanked God and Almighty forces for giving me two daughters, one of whom is not afraid of logical political and economic thought and its ultimate conclusions, and one daughter deeply committed to study and hard work with an eye toward current and future accomplishments for the betterment of both her individual self, her future family, and beyond.
3. I read about a Republican politician of some renown calling a presidential candidate “Lucifer” and no, he wasn’t referring to miscreant Hillary. This being the latest ridiculous, divisive, and emotional slam among our entitled political class.  Along with the outdated paperwork I discarded earlier today, I deposit this in the ‘Rhetoric of the most unbeneficial kind’ trash pile.
4. I also read about Hillary’s intense desire to control our guns, control our free speech, control our free markets and profits (other than her own of course), control access to public information, control women who her husband boned, and yet not control the porous border of the United States with all known and unknown inherent dangers.  With all my readings today, I bestowed upon her the title of ‘hypocritical loon at large.’   She worked hard for that title and she won it hands down today, but she has plenty of competition among both the left and the right.
5. I read about ISIS and its evil mission, threats and deeds. I wonder how in the face of such a vile enemy we see our politicians implode instead of unite, argue instead of negotiate, distract instead of focus, obfuscate instead of clarify, react instead of plan, anger instead of inspire, betray instead of protect.    I wonder even more why they are waiting to secure our sovereignty, strengthen our core.  What exactly are they waiting for?

As I write frenetically, our tabby cat is climbing on me…between me and my pencil,  between me and my journal, her claw digging into my flesh,  her face way into my armpit now and pushing  along my underarm, her head forcibly pushing my right hand with the pencil up to pet her.  She is insistent, but I don’t stop writing.  She purrs and finally settles for a spot spread out across my chest, but thankfully giving me room to see what I am writing – although she has made my handwriting so awful I may not be able to transcribe.  But I can’t stop… there can be no simple moment of respite, no peace.  And she forcibly leaves with a defining toss of her head.

So yes there can be no true respite.  When the mind is alive and stimulated with the thoughts and variables of battles –there can be no respite.

There are multiple forces working to assault our liberties, from inside our country to those external to our country.    They thrive on theft, and not just monetary theft – theft of individualism, theft of creative living, theft of opportunity, theft of self-determination, theft of a well-lived life, and total theft of our way of living as well as that of future generations.  They take my respite even now, even in this ‘be forewarned for we are preparing to accost you big time’ time.

We, ladies and gentlemen, are at war with ourselves.  While the world asylum gets crazier by the hour, we pick a darn bad time to be at war with ourselves.  The dems picked a darn bad time to decide that they know longer want to support so much of what the United States of America stands for.    Our leader-loons picked a darn good time to fight ….. for themselves and their way of life.

Oh people, we picked a really bad time to be at war with ourselves.

Tomorrow, when Harry is feeling better, THAT will be the day of respite. THAT will be the day my chattering mind is calmed.    Won’t it?

 

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