The Greatest Love of All

So............

This happened.

Someone anonymously sent a message to me. Apparently, they felt that my blog entries about my pain over the supposed passing of my first love, Steven Thomas Szasz, were really stupid, borderline mental illness. Possibly it was a bit of wishing someone had cared about them with such intensity. Maybe they had never loved another person with such passion because they actually had never learned how to love themselves.

The person, I think I know who they are, further expounded on how I must be such a loser to care so much. How it's abnormal for someone to grieve so deeply, to write about it for the whole world to read.

Furthermore, this unhappy creature cautioned me to seek a counselor because the feathers I found & how I felt about finding so many is not normal. Then, they expounded on my other flaws, my love for my Doberman puppy, that I wasted my time on needlework etc.

Here is my sincere public double bird salute from a famous mouse.

Instead of telling you this face to face as you took the cowards way, thinking you are so clever, sending a message to me that doesn't concretely ID you. Obviously, you don't know me as you seem to think you do. The message that you think wouldn't ID you, came from your isp which connected it to you.

Who is the fool, now. Don't answer, it's you.

The company that pays me to write this blog enjoys it that I'm so real. That the nitty gritty honesty, the truth in my opinions & life experience are refreshing. That I tell it as I see it.

Having so many personal struggles, I know I'm an under-dog. The one that so many people love to hate. I'm okay with that. Having never been a people pleaser, it's important for a person to love themselves, not caring what other people think.

I'm a people helper, not a pleaser.

A people helper as in helping someone who genuinely needs it. What they do with that help is up to them. It's then, out of my hands.

What the person I helped or those who know of my helping them, think of me, is also on them, not me.

It's all good.

This concept is dispersed all over the world. Learning to love yourself just as you are or as you decide to be. Little to no care as to the opinions of others. Songs, quotes, entire books, poetry, works of art. It's in all cultures in all languages.

Opinions are like belly buttons. Nearly everyone has one. The only one it makes a dent in, is the one who has it.

Humans start out as deutosteromes. Some people fail to progress, mentally/emotionally beyond that stage.

People must love themselves enough to be enough, being just fine as they are without needing another person to "complete" them. I'm single because I want to be single. 

There is so much more to life than following the urge to merge, coupling up because products in supermarkets mainly sell products in packages of two.

At first, when I was married, it was a bit rocky. As time went on, it reverted back full circle becoming rocky only more so as I discovered so many betrayals that, of course, he lied about when asked.

I felt so trapped.

A reoccurring dream I used to have was that I was bound with heavy chains from head to foot. As I struggled to free myself the chains tightened around me. I screamed, yet it was completely silent. 

Then, right after the divorce, the dream stopped occurring. 

This tells me that being married was definitely mostly a negative for me. 

Maybe it was just the one I was married to that made it so awful.  A counselor told me that it seemed that I was giving 95% then, maybe getting 5% back on a really good day.

It was hard enough for me that it's something I probably want to steer clear of. Never say never. Ha ha.

As someone who probably cares too much about everyone, while being unconcerned at what others think of me. It has brought a bit of trouble to me. It has also taken me to some very sweetly serendipitous situations. When you are very different from most people, it scares a lot of people because you're your own person, it's more effort to figure you out if they even can.

Depending upon the other people who are individuals, themselves, stereotyping is a knee jerk reaction.

Figure out the other person, squish them into the neat little box you believe they belong in. The same dimensions as the boxes prepared for all the other people that needed to be figured out.

Next?

Many people will fit in that mental box you prepared for them plus hundreds of others all in their own boxes. It's the ones like me who chooses to have a burning curiosity about everything that are seen as the problem. That fly in your sangria, the buzzing mosquito whom you can hear, it just escapes being truly seen.

Back to the lovely troll. Your words say more about you than they do regarding me. Thank you for the chuckles, Bozo.

Sometimes Dreams Do Come True

Looking over at him, laying there, sleeping. Loving the sound of his breathing, snoring, little noises as he dreams. For three years I was yearning for him or one like him. It was only when I let go of the effort, then, like magic, he became mine.

Having had three before him, I had to let go of expectations, be open to how he would be, whom he would be. Then, on February 4th, 2024, I received the phone call. That's when it started.

My magnificent dorky PJ. He was one of 12 puppies in the litter. Black & tan. 

He was so loved by the breeders. It was obvious. At first, the breeders wife held him on her lap, stroking his little head, behind his ears. He made an adorable purring trill, nearly fell asleep. I drove to Wichita, Kansas, to bring him to my home.

Into my home.

Into my life.

Into my heart.

The first 2 weeks, I slept by his crate with a pillow & blanket. He still cried at night. He cried more when I wasn't there. He was so small. Just 11 lbs. The drive back to Graham, Texas was a magical time. I kept looking over at him in a pinch me way, feeling the deepest happiness, I had felt in a long long time. My dream dog, an AKC Doberman puppy. 

When I met his mother, Serena then saw his father, Lucien, I saw his potential. How he would grow to be as an adult. 

He is a Kansa Dobe. One of the leading breeders of pure Dobermans in the USA. The breeders are very selective as to whom their puppies go to their forever home with. The application asks valid questions as to what the potential home the puppy will go to as well as what they are looking for in a puppy. This is very important, to me. They care about their dogs; these are living beings that require a lifelong commitment to the wellbeing of each puppy & their life span.

Kansa Dobermans | Elite Doberman Pinscher Breeder

Happily, I made that commitment to PJ, for the rest of his life or mine, whichever happens first. He's my family, I am his family.

PJ is from a long line of show dogs. Pure Doberman for 100 generations. I could enter shows with him, could use him for breeding. That's not my wish nor objective. He's my protector, my companion. More than just a beautiful, lean, elegant dork. Along with it he's so intelligent. He's very affectionate, sweet, playful, learns quickly, very eager to train. He house broke himself, it was I who had to be trained to understand his cues. 

My prior 3 Dobermans were all very sweet, smart, beautiful, protective, eager to learn & train. PJ is all that plus more. He is my first AKC Doberman. The others were from back yard breeders. I can see a very strong difference in him. He's learning to do whatever at a younger age plus he learns it faster.

Part of it could be that I've had more experience in training dogs. Maybe I'm more patient.

Maybe it's a combination of his careful breeding married with my experience in training my dogs plus training other people's dogs.

Whatever it is, I feel like the most fortunate woman in the world to have him.

When I walk him through my neighborhood, people come out of their houses to get a closer look at him. People in their cars slow down to stare at him. Many people even stop, often pull over to the side to look at him, ask me questions about him.

We enjoy daily visits to the dog park. Mostly, we are the only ones there. We walk, run, play, train, get some quality outdoor fun!  I love this dog so much. I can't remember what life was like before him.

To his credit, PJ knows 14 commands. He also knows the names of all 26 of his toys. He learned so fast. Most of his "toys" are the sort that provide mental stimulation. 

Dobermans are renowned for their intelligence. One tenet of that is that they need mental stimulation. Some people would say they crave it, in reality, they need it just as they need food, water, attention, to be loved.

A bored Doberman is a danger to anything they have access to, to chew on. Shoes, furniture, clothing, rugs, walls, flooring, their humans. They will find mental stimulation one way or another. It's best to provide it or have some expensive lessons until you learn.

Before I brought PJ into our home, I thought I had puppy proofed it. PJ spanked me into the realization that it was insufficient. It was my responsibility, so, I had to listen then puppy proof it even more. Still, he finds ways to show me where I fall short. 

Trial is more pleasant than error. Error is more expensive.

Soon, PJ will be 1 year of age. He changes a little every day. He becomes more mature, physically bigger, stronger, more communicative. Another part of the Doberman breeds charm is that they are very clear communicators. Like many humans, most females mature at an earlier age, are stronger at communication. I have trained female Dobies, have only owned male Dobermans.

Three weeks ago, PJ reached a milestone. He became a leg lifter. He still squats to pee sometimes, if he isn't close to an object to "water".

Also, he reacts differently to female dogs than he does to male dogs. He seems to prefer female humans vs guys or male humans. Maybe he knows things. He reacts more positive toward older men. He seems to dislike guys who have beards or ones that are very tall. A man who is very tall, had a very sexy beard approached me at the dog park. I was so glad I hadn't taken his leash off, yet. 

PJ went into full on murder mode, scared the pee out of the guy!

He really did, not even figuratively. The poor guy was so embarrassed, he tried to keep me from seeing the wet spot on his pants. It was the hardest ever to keep myself from laughing. Making the guy feel even more embarrassed than he already was.

My protector loves me, heals my heart. Makes me so happy.

I knew I needed a man, a Doberman.

 

My new door sign, custom made, thank you, for this, Lester.