i write a lot

” Is it possible, finally, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close are we able to come to that person’s essence?” —Haruki Murakami

I’ve been spending many days and nights with this man, Mr. Murakami. I finished his memoir the other day, and I’m half way done with his (masterpiece) novel “the wind-up bird chronicle” I like him. He’s far from Camus, but closer than Capote. I like him (maybe) a little more than Kundera. 

I take pride in my nerdy book-worminess. The last last blog I wrote was about wanting to apologize. I actually cut the blog in two, because the last portion was for my eyes only. 

Anyway, i’ve been giving a lot of things small amounts of thought. Mr. Murakami says this “Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional”I normally highlight, underline, or fill my books with post-its, but…that phrase I automatically tattooed to my brain. How true. 

So, I choose not to suffer, at least, not to suffer over things which simply don’t matter. You’re only a fool if you act like one.

Mr. Murakami, I want to send you a christmas card, and a box of chocolates. 
The whole world looks different when you change your perspective,
**winnie. 

I am so happy when I’m with you.
Winnie

Year of the Dog, 
that’s my year. 1982. year of the Dog.

So, when Maxie was brought home, i thought, “hi friend…”

She used to try to sleep in her water bowl, 
Her chubby short arms would put weight on one side of her round metal water bowl, tipping it over, sending a mini tsunami of water all over her (and the floor) and she would edge her round body into her water bowl. 

I was just starting college and would be home a lot of the times when it happened. I would laugh and put newspaper over the spilled water, letting her water absorb in, and then cleaned up the mess.

what a character.  I have quite a few memories of my friend, Maxie, or  Maaah-mah, which is what I called her.

She used to sleep in my room, and sometimes I would find her in my bed.
for a long time she was my shadow, following me around the house.
she would be in my room during most of the time, 
and was the only witness to all of the tears I cried for all of the lost loves and broken hearts. most times, she would find her way to my bed and paw the side of my mattress, as if to say…”hey there, you ok?”
but
other times she would just lay on the floor too, head close to the tile, as if she felt what I felt too.

“Maaah-mah, why do you think this is happening…”
I would ask her, and she silently just looked off to somewhere else.
the unanswerable questions I would ask
followed by her silence…
illustrated the fact that the answers were so apparent,
words were not needed.

wise dog.

As she got progressively older and more sick, the same question would linger in the back of my head, but like my love life…the unanswerable questions always had (and have) apparent answers.

Yesterday, during the most hectic weekend of 2012 (so far)
she came into my room while I was trying to get ready.
she kept looking up at me, and I scurried around in my bra and panty, trying to find clothes to wear.
her rapid, loud, and heavy breathing set the tempo for my panic because I couldn’t find my favorite dress.

she just sat directly in the middle of my room, completely in my walking way, staring at me.

I couldn’t pay her the attention she requested (and deserved)
and I went back and forth with my mom about different outfits to wear.this all seemed very typical, and so I paid it no attention.

Maxie liked to be in the middle of everything, making her presence known…
She would lay or sit directly in the way of everything you needed to be doing.
Everyone in MY family was so used to it, so we would just step around her and let her stay in the way. I guess, we had a general understanding of Maxie—and her presence.

At the peak of all of the frustration of looking for my dress,
my mom coming in and out of my room talking nonsense,
and my obstructed walking space in my room,

Maxie peed in my room, while staring at me.

all I could think is “really…why now?”
*no answer*

When i looked down and saw the river of yellow rushing and spreading on my tile floors, I finally said… “Maxie, OUT…”
I got news paper and spread it out, letting it absorb her water…
my mom and I proceeded to clean up her mess.I was so frustrated when it happened, but now I think…what a character.
I do believe that was her way of saying goodbye to me, or at least…I’d like to think it was.

before i left, i looked outside and saw her sitting there, breathing hard and looking in.
Her face questioned
“What’s going on?”
“What’s going to happen next…?”I went to go get water, and looked outside at her.
i didn’t say anything, and as much as I would like to end this blog with a heartfelt ending of me having a dramatic goodbye moment, i can’t.

Because I simply just drank my water and silently looked away. the answer was apparent.

and that was the last time I saw her.

i don’t know how to say goodbye to Maxie.
waking up this morning, to a silent house, not hearing her tapping on the floor or her loud breathing…
not being awoken in the middle of the night because she had to go pee…
waking up to silencejust reminds me that
the unanswerable questions of “why is this happening?”
or “why didn’t I notice…”
or “did she know that i loved her?”

always have apparent answers.

i will miss you maaah-mah.
goodbye, friend.
**winnie.

It’s all just a series of moves.Winnie