When it Buries You

 

My friend came over Friday Night, you know, Sassy’s Tips.  Any way we are hanging out smoking cigarettes in the apartment because that’s what 21 year old girls do when they finally move out on their own…wait…I just turned 50…

So, she has to leave because of her already made plans and as I walk her to her car and take my babies for a walk, there is a tiny baby kitten.  Hot, hungry and scared.  Sassy picks her up and of course gets scratched.  I know she didn’t want me to put the same antibiotic cream on the scratch that I use for Kali’s nervous hot spots so she goes on.  I put the dogs back in our place and try to find the kitty, but all I have is soy and almond milk.  I know that isn’t going to help her.

My babies promptly wake me when I decide it’s time, and we pursue the walk without coffee.   There, lying on the concrete, is the barely 2 week old, that has been mauled by something not human.  Okay.  I love Pits.  They can be the most timid, loving creatures; but if they are trained to attack- they will.  That is all.

I put my pups back in their space; grab some gloves, newspaper and a bag and go back downstairs with tears streaming from my eyes.  Wondering why such cruelty has to happen.  I carefully wrap her and dispose of her remains with the best of what I got.  I do a prayer for her and any other creature that had to endure such pain.

Had coffee, got dressed because of my plans with Sassy Girl, and took my babes for another walk before I was going to leave them alone for the day.  As they were in their familiar yard area, I got a little relaxed and let go of their leashes.  Kali decided to go on a journey with baby Olive in tow down the thoroughfare of a major roadway.  Not the sidewalk, but the street.  I prayed to God “Please don’t let anything happen to my furbabies, I still need them”

I finally caught up with them at a corner Buy Here, Pay Here car dealership and Kali is like “What up?”  I grab their leashes and thanked the heavens for saving grace.

In the meantime, Okay, I live in a predominately black neighborhood.  I am the white girl.  So, a club of Mexican Bikers set up a barbeque and booth in the Family Dollar parking lot across the street.  Me, the full of love hippie chick goes to check it out.  The intention I got from the group was not friendly.

My girl comes to pick me up and we get in her car to leave and there is a full on Mexican Parade happening in the wrong neighborhood.

Please don’t take me wrong.  I am not racist.  But, the stigma and the problem do exist.

So, we do a youy, and get the heck outta there.  I think we at some point were on two wheels, that’s when I decided we are Thelma and Louise!  I am fumbling with the GPS.  And if anyone knows me, that crap and me don’t mix.  I go solely on instinct and we finally find the freeway.

We do our Coupon and Thrifty shopping like every poor white girl should and when we are done, we hang out at Sassy’s place.  As she’s whipping us up some snacks, we go to have a smoke on her balcony and discover a mom and gramma looking for their 11 year old girl.

My heart drops 30 feet.

The cops come, knock on doors and no results.  This girl can’t be found.  God only knows what happened.

Sassy brings me home and I am greeted by some happy pooches.

We nestle in for the evening and there is still some activity going on outside but I am okay until I hear the familiar sounds of gunshots only from my earlier days of living in the woods.

Me and my babes climb into Kali’s safe place, which is the nice sized closet.

My furbabes wake me up when they know I will accept it and we do our morning rounds.

I am thinking, maybe today will be calm.  NOPE.

My daughter that just turned 25.  I love her.  I would do anything in my power to save her from this world and keep her in a protective bubble and give her Disneyland.   But I can’t
She is struggling.  And hard.

What does a mom do when their baby girl hurts.  What does she do?

As I tried to groom my muzzled poochiweenie as her schnoodle mama tries to protect; I lost it.

I lost it all.  My dogs ended up fighting with a plugged in grooming shears running in between them and me blowing up at my daughter telling her to suck it up..

I am now doing my Himalayan Sea Salt, Lime and Tequila therapy method and realizing my oxygen tank just ran out.

Time for a refill

 

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