Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I don't know if it was the two sessions of Reiki last week, or the Tennyson and T.S. Eliot* I read to him earlier, that I told him I'd get up extra-early so we could go find the dawn-loving rabbits who eat grasses in the upper cul-de-sac, or maybe the online video news story I made him watch about the once paralysed and comatose woman who walked after being prayed for, but my dog just tried to push himself up with his forelegs, a thing that has not happened since late June. He did it three times.
We are so proud.
And I am not crazy.
*(The Lotos-Eaters and The Lovesong of of J. Alfred Prufrock, respectively. He really preferred the latter. It relaxed him, like a patient etherized upon a table. Jabberwocky didn't go over so well, maybe because they were talking gibberish and not of Michelangelo or maybe he just doesn't need slithy toves gyreing and gimbling at him right now, thank you very much.)