Anxiety is a demon, roaring fury echoing in mocking silence, dancing tentacles teasing and mutilating quivering raw flesh. Shortness of breath and throbbing heart escalating into blazing fury, gasping for breath under thick smoking dusty throws, pearly beads of toxic pain oozing from unseen frantic pores.
The Canine Angel is a mysterious entity. One does not need her the way air is exigency for life’s breath. In fact, many inconveniences present incorrigible upon such Angelic visitation. The Angel does not wait for opportune time and space, her Beingness occupies your entire ecology. She creates calm from chaos, yet stirring waves so gently disruptive the heavens chortle in cruel delight.
Without my Canine Angel, I would be that much richer in pocket, freer in time, a larger bed to sleep uninterrupted by gangly legs and forceful paws, and travelling light.
Without her, my life eyes will see fewer colours, hues and kaleidoscopic wonder. Shoes so much tighter and burdens all the heavier to bear. This Being has not exorcised the demon of anxiety, she has no power to vanquish night terrors, nor are her swift feet adequately cogent to outrun fear. Yet, Lucy Like a Charm is wonderment in midst of darkness, a warm olfactory and tactile comfort, a song without worded lines to memorise, a parallel embodiment to my alternative existence, and a beacon of Hope in futile contemplation of morbid mortality.
At the cusp of marked change, we are fearful in each our different modalities, sharing the same clement space of trust. We are not brave. We are not valiant. We have no magic wand to wave when the tides threaten annihilation. We are merely two sharing a graceful cosmic brush stroke in awkward yet benevolent redemption.
Where do we go from here? I cannot answer. Yet, she does not ask. We merely traverse. Together. Our pearls are beads of love.