My Dog

Those of you that know me beyond this blog know that for years I've wanted a dog to call my own. One to play with. Run with. Tug with. You've seen my light up when I get to play with someone else's... I'm not sure what the bond is there, but maybe it has something to do with having "the best dog ever" growing up. A little Springer Spaniel/Beagle Mix. A spunky little thing, that kept me and my sisters busy (my brothers were much younger), out of trouble, and actually got help for me when I had broken my leg and went into shock, a real life Lassie type moment.

Well, as it turns out I've had a dog for years. It isn't the sort I've ever thought I wanted. It's not the sort anyone would choose. It's a black dog. Some times it nips a my heels, and some times it drags me down.

It's the same kind that Winston Churchill had.

What sort of dog am I talking about?
A black dog.

To friends, Winston Churchill, referred to bouts of his depression as his "black dog." I love that a friend brought this up, and I love even more that another friend said... "Just always remember who owns who."

Maybe I'll give mine a name, or change the color... Gray seems a more likely color then black for my canine friend. I don't know if my bouts ever go THAT dark... Where all light escapes. Where there's a feeling of no hope. Yeah, a gray dog. My dog's gray. And maybe I'll give 'em two different colored eyes.

But the important thing to remember, regardless of color... Is who owns who. Who commands who. Yesterday I got so much done that I had been putting off. Little bullshit type things, like repairing one pair of shoes, getting laces for another. Fixing two picture frames. Dropping my truck off to get my CD player fixed. 

Things that have needed attention for days, weeks, months, years, but I just never made time to get to them. When  took time to clean, and straighten Sunday, I also took everything that was half finished, or needed care, put them in one place, and then wrote it on my task.

Today I'll cross a few more off. It feels good to not have certain objects calling for attention from me. "Fix me." "Hang me." "Drop me at Goodwill."

Sit. Stay. Come. Roll over.

This isn't the topic I thought I'd write this morning, and I didn't get it to "the biz" as I thought I would. And I'm not going to copy and paste this into my MYSPACE blog, and write another for Backstage this morning as I've committed to shoot a friend's shots this AM. The blog I thought I'd write was going to be called something like "My Life And Maybes."

-- Quichemmanding My Dog ~ Tom Kiesche