I didn’t know it was possible for someone to be this tired. I have been Very Tired before, like when I was a camp counselor and the end of a week would come or when I was sitting up all night with BoBo when he was so sick right before he died. But this tired is different. It’s like a soul tired. It’s a brain tired. It’s a There’s Nothing Left To Do But Cry tired, and I think I’m even too tired for that.
I just wore myself out counting how many times I typed the word tired in the above paragraph.
Seriously, I am running myself so very ragged lately that I will almost be glad when the Renn Fest is over for the year. But at the same time I love going, so I dread packing up the tent for the last time. Crazy, I know.
I did get some very good news on Friday. Scott is going to let Jeany live with me. I don’t have to give up my girl. I get to see that little blonde head every day, even after I move. I was so happy that I nearly cried just looking at her Friday night. Scott was taken aback, I think…”You mean you’d really have missed her that much?” Yes, absolutely. But now I don’t have to miss her except when she goes to visit him…and I will know that she is coming back, so that makes it okay.
This past weekend at the festival was good…I think I really bonded with Hunky. I know, he’s my baby, my heart dog…sometimes the other half of my brain, but I think I understand him all the better. There was a little boy that would NOT leave him alone on Sunday. The kid was hugging Hunky’s head, leaning on him (after repeated admonitions to stop), getting right in his face, and generally testing my gentle and sweet boy’s patience to the absolute limit. Finally he noticed his parents were gone (believe me, I’d noticed quite some time before he did!) and he left the tent. Hunky immediately wiggled over until half of his body was in my lap, and his rear end was close enough that I could cover it with my enormous sleeve. He had done his time with that kid and was letting me know that he needed me to protect him for a bit from any more that might come along. And that I did…my sweet boy.
It’s like Linda (another HOEF’er) said to me on Saturday…I just never thought I could love anything the way I love my greyhounds. I love my cats, don’t get me wrong, but there is something different between me and my hounds. There’s a communication there (and I don’t mean like the animal communicator, I only WISH I had that gift) that I’ve never had with any other pet. When I take the time to pay attention to it (which I need to work on doing more often), it overwhelms me. Maybe it’s a connection to my Scottish ancestors who no doubt had sighthounds in their lives. Maybe it’s my previously repressed maternal instinct in hyperdrive. Whatever it is…when I get so tired that I want to cry like I am now, the best medicine in the world is to snuggle up with a hound (or three) on the sofa and take a nice long nap…or just lie there and watch the hound sleep, and remember how incredibly lucky and blessed I am.