April 1st

April 1st is my awful (beloved) little dog's birthday.
Cece, my mean, mean little dog, this one's for her.

Cece is lying next to me on the couch, in slumber.
She's always next to me, she never leaves my side.
If I reach over and put my hand next to her face,
she will sleepily lick my finger.

This is far from when I first met her.
The angry, terrified mutt at a rescue I volunteered at.

She spit and she bit people.
She was really mean and angry.
Not that she doesn't still bite.
She's an awful biter.
She's ferocious,
11 lbs. of terror.
But she doesn't bite me anymore.
She would if I startled her
Or moved her blanket
that she wraps herself up in like a burrito.
Or if she had an awful nightmare.

It makes me so sad that she has nightmares.
I have nightmares,
Awful ones,
all the time.
And so does my beloved dog.

In her sleep
Sometimes
she will bite her subconcious attacker
(which in real life can end up being my toe).
I believe it is about whoever abused her before rescue.
That makes me sad
But I understand.
I don't bite,
but I understand.

She's sleeping next to me.
When I look over at her, every time,
I am overwhelmed with how very much
I love this little dog.
The little dog who bites,
stinks, growls,
claws at my leg if I am not holding her,
pulled my "R" key off of my laptop,
tries to drink my coffee
all the time,
steals bags of chips,
stole an entire Subway sandwich,
is relentlessly demanding,
brings me presents
from the cat's litter box,
drags out my undergarments
when people come over
and throws up in my hand while I'm sleeping.

God, I love her.
Since the day she picked me at rescue,
she has been hopelessly attached to me,
but that does not compare to
how hopelessly attached I am to her.
I miss her even if I'm gone for 5 minutes.
I love how she smells.
I love her funny little face and walk.
I understand her language she made up
that says things like
"TAKE ME OUT NOW!!!"

I understand pain.
I understand fear.
I understand nightmares.
I don't bite...
but I understand.


Happy Cece's Birthday.