[Bootsandheels]

If you’ve followed my blogs long enough, you will come to find out that my son who turns 18 on Oct. 27th has been shunning me for about the last 2 years.
He is a Christian fundamentalist like his dad, and he decided that since I wasn’t going to repent and turn away from my lesbian lifestyle, he had to fully shun me.
It means absolutely no contact whatsoever, and it’s been an excruciating journey for me to say the least.

As his birthday nears once again, I ponder sending him a card. Will he just destroy it or throw it away like he has me and our memories? I will send it this year regardless. It will be the first real attempt at contact from me, and I’m terrified but like a soldier going into battle for all the right reasons, I am committed to it.

I’ve been going through mothering withdrawal. I never thought that I would be ‘done’ mothering my son when he was just 11 years old, but that is essentially when he left me-when I came out 7 years ago. I have felt so many things, and bereft is a damn good word right now. It’s not like a death though…it is just torture because he is still alive and beautiful, winning national awards and basketball games as the star center of his high school team, starting to date for the first time, and so many other things that I simply do not know a thing about nor get to be a part of. I’m not sure I even remember some of his favorite things…and that grieves my mother’s heart.
He is still in contact with my parents strangely enough, and so I get this sort of window shopping feel to vicariously experience their brief visits with my son through a few pictures that he let them take of him.

With my own birthday around the corner, my girlfriend decided that I needed something to ‘mother’. Ok…..pick out a rescue she said…a small dog would be perfect for you-you can take it to work, travel in the car…yada yada yada…
Now one of the other things that you find out about me rather quickly is that I have a penchant for LARGE dogs…and….I have a rescued guard dog from Germany-a real working line German shepherd who is a rather large labor of love. She is my third shepherd and a fully trained, locked and loaded weapon that needs to be in a large 6’ high fenced compound where she is happy guarding her surroundings and not at risk of biting anyone but a nasty intruder. I cannot take her anywhere unless she is in her steel crate. Get the picture? I’ve tried re-homing her, but it just didn’t work out. Inside she is a complete goof and lovable couch potato, but outside…let’s just say that there are no less than 4 “Beware of Dog” and “Keep out” signs on the fence that surrounds her. You never know what you get with a rescue-that’s just part of the deal.

I’ve been depressed and weepy this month with both me and my son’s birthdays closing in upon me. Looking for ‘something to love’ is not exactly what I had in mind to chase my blues away. But…I began looking on “Adoptapet.com”. Ever since a Papillion dog named “Kirby” won the Westminster Dog Show for the first time in his breed’s history in 1999, I have loved this little “Butterfly dog” breed. (Papillion in French means “Butterfly” and pertains to the shape of their ears which look rather like butterfly wings.)
I started a search for papillions not sure of what I would find. I looked at purebred dogs who were hundreds of dollars and decided on another rescue-because that is what I’ve always done-rescued dogs.

I inquired about a few that I found promising, and filled out the necessary applications, with no hope or excitement. I wasn’t sure that after this hellish year of losing not only my son but my ex butch of 5.5 yrs to alcoholism I would even be capable of bonding with anyone or anything else.

We drove the 3 hours down to wine country in WA to meet this dog. His pictures were cute, and there was something about his expression that made me linger on his page. When we got there, we found a small pet grooming place out in the middle of the puckerbrush that apparently did a small rescue business on the side. I looked at the small yipping dogs scattered across an even smaller enclosure. I didn’t see him and as I kept looking I still didn’t see him…where the hell was he? Then I saw a little face peek out from behind the gal who sat in an office chair as she spoke to another couple about their new addition. There he was…my potential love child. Finally, she was done with the other couple and slowly handed him to me. I’ve only had big dogs in my life and I used to say that dogs his size weren’t dogs…they were toys. If you could sit or step on them…that was not a dog. I took him in my arms and with two licks to my face I didn’t care anymore. He was mine…and I wasn’t letting him go.
I embarrassed myself in front of all the other people who had come for their dogs by yep…crying.

I was so happy and all the pain of my son and of this last horrible year came out onto that little dog’s fur…and he licked my tears just as fast as I could cry them out. On the 3 hour ride back home, we bonded as we humans do with these creatures, that own us and master us faster than we can blink an eye and say what the f***? How they do it so quickly so effortlessly is just beyond me, and even after he escaped and took off running at a dead heat out onto 7 acres of land towards a busy street that had just claimed our rescue cat the month prior, I couldn’t’ stay mad at him. Even after we tried to get a working border collie to herd him back in, after he took on an 1800 lb Jersey steer- barking at this ridiculously large cartoon of a cow who looked at him as if he were a gnat buzzing around his hooves…I had to laugh so hard I cried again. With two peri-menopausal dykes screaming after him in a panic, we finally caught him when he stopped to eat cow shit-ah dogs…doesn’t matter the size…they still like to eat it.

I took “Leo” to work today at the senior center and of course he was a big hit…an 84 year old blind man who hardly speaks starting laughing and talking with Leo in his arms…and he brought a smile to everyone he met. I even put him in my oversized bag with his head popped out over the side and went into Target...breaking a silent vow that I had made to NEVER be one of “Those” women who did such a thing….I used to make fun of them…now I get it!
I’ve said over and over these last 3 days to everyone who meets him, “He’s a rescue, can you believe it?” What I know and now believe is that this sweet little angel with butterfly wings found… and rescued me.


Boots

©Lkfox 10/19/2011