BLAH BLAH BLOGGING

It's hard to explain and probably impossible to understand what Pixie means to me. I feel a connection with that animal that transcends our differing species in a way that is absolute. In a way that feels godly. I am hers and she is mine. Each part of the same One. It seems sickening, horrible, horrifying, terrifying, miserable, wrong to be apart from her. I am abandoning her. This will be the second time this has happened in her life. I rescued her initially from a family that couldn't keep her and witnessed her shock and trauma from it. I felt sick then, recognizing her terror and confusion. I feel sick now, anticipating it.

My mother loves Pixie but didn't want a dog. She is taking her for me completely selflessly. There isn't a greater gift anyone could give me. Pixie loves and knows her and my mother will do right by her, this dog with issues. This dog who fights with other dogs, who barks her brains out at squirrels, who gets dirt in your sheets, who won't let you clip her toe nails, who pees routinely on the kitchen rug, who bit a baby for Pete's sake. This dog who cuddles your head every night, who follows you from room to room, who loves her toys with a passion, who begs you with wheedling moans to play fetch, who flops on her back when she sees you, who burrows in her beds, who huddles on your lap when she is scared, who explodes with frenzied joy when you come home, and most of all who trusts me. She so implicitly trusts me. I truly couldn't trust her to anyone else.

Pixie is such a loyal little being. Such a curious, inquisitive, happy, precious soul. She is so playful, so desirous to be involved in anything going on. She has been the perfect pet for me for almost five years.

I am so sad. I can't stop crying. I feel so sick. This feels so wrong. Nothing has ever felt more wrong. Pixie is curled up at my feet as I type.