About a month ago, during the height of my Lithium/France Farmer withdrawal state of mind, I took out my dogs to Allen Gardens off leash area. Though never at the butcher, but more of a crack house large dog side, but where all the little princess, mob dogs, and people who don’t realize a puppy who will grow up to be a 100 pounds at nine weeks does not mix with very wee adult dogs.
I began my ritual off equipping myself with the iPod headphones in , and dark sunglasses on. This equipment is necessary to escape the Mylie Cyrus-like adoration the little 2.5-pound Chihuahua gets while out and about.
The sun was out, I was into my music, and then suddenly while trying to get into my apartment a friend of mine was opening the door for me, and another woman outside was just staring at me. I couldn’t hear anything, nor did I really no what the hell was going on? Why wasn’t this woman moving? Why is J holding the door blocking it with his bike?
Then I realized he was doing this for me, but he got a bit bitch about it, but it really was nothing. I’ve known him for a very long time. And out of the blue, like a switch was flicked, I just went off at him. In the 16 years I’ve known him, I’ve never done this.
However, at the time, my ego told me I was perfectly justified and it was time to “not take it anymore.” Whatever the “it” was that my ego was feeding me.
Well it didn’t take long until the next day that I knew that I had to go against the ego and find some humilty to apologize. Seeing that I had no idea of “J’s” schedule, I bought a card and wrote a note apologizing. Included was a little gift card so he could go enjoy a couple of caffe lattes as the weather was starting to finally turn nice – so I thought.
A few days later I saw him, and unbeknownst to me he was quite touched that I actually did that. J then told me he was making a card for me, and he hope I thought it was funny.
And I did. It was during pride I found the envelope at my door with some very old photos dating back from the days when I maybe weighed 140 pounds. In it with the photo in drag asked the question, “Does this dog make me look fat?” I howled, excuse the pun, when I saw it.
I was so skinny back then I’d alway say, “If I could only gain twenty-pounds, I could impersonate Karen Carpenter! We passed quickly in the elevator and I said, “Loved the card, and that photo makes me feel fat!”
The point of telling this story is that last Saturday, J went missing. A report had been filed with my building security that a policeman came by to say he was at Sunnybrook.
When I called, there as no record of him being there. Finally he was found at St. Mich’s. trauma ward in ICU from a biking accident. He still has to have major surgery, and has some pretty blunt head trauma.
This point of writing is that, as I shared last night, in the moment when you are pissed off and you have the opportunity to swallow your pride and make it right, do it. I would have felt so awful had I not let he know that him know he was worth the apology.
So in another act of complete humility I’m posting the two photos, and a close up for your viewing pleasure.
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