Coincidence

We both need love.  We've both been lonely.

I lie on the rug next to this big dog for my own comfort.  I wanted to go to my room and close the door and light a candle and cry, but I invited Na'ilah in with me and then found myself lying next to her on the floor, kneading the fur around her neck, crying, and dodging her mouth as she tries to lick me.

I don't like being licked by a dog.  I'm not a dog lover, but I realize tonight that I love this dog.

Talking to Marie on Thanksgiving, I had explained that I don't love Na'ilah; I like her and feel responsible for her.

Tonight I realize that by now I do love this strange creature that I coaxed into my car last August out of pity.   We've been through so much together.

Things started earlier this evening when I proudly showed John the check from State Farm.

He was amazed and happy, as I am, but then reading the accompanying letter that cited the name of "the claimant"--the cat's owner--he recognized her name.  They both worked for the Los Angeles Times a few years back.

"Would she recognize your name?" I asked.  

"Yes, of course," he said.  "I guess I should email her or something."

There are these occasional ex-LATer events and an email group list.

Somehow the prospect of adding John to my complex, traumatic relationship with the cat owner felt upsetting to me.

"You called us both stupid," I said.  

The news also highlights my loss of her as a potential friend.  We had talked a few times as I walked my dogs past her house and as she emerged with her dog.  

I had joked with her about Na'ilah's need for "Vitamin C"--an opportunity to sniff or chase a cat during her daily walks.  

This neighbor a block away had seemed so intelligent and kind, a potential friend, but then the disaster of Na'ilah attacking her cat changed all that.  The relationship is over, except for an exchange of text messages over the health of Kali and now polite cooperation over filing a claim with State Farm.

I've promised never to walk past her house with my dogs again.

But now she and John know each other, in a remote way?  I may be talking with her about something other than our pets?  Though the attack will always be a subtext...

Sheesh.  I have to think about that.

I drove to the corner market and found myself wanting to cry.  

When I got home, I retreated to my room to sort out my feelings.

Then it occurred to me that if Gracie Giselle, the chihuahua, can be Roz's service dog and provide comfort to her when needed, maybe hugging Na'ilah would help me.  

Thus I lie on the carpet curled up next to her seventy-five pounds and feeling comforted.

We are both mothers.  We have both been through a lot.  She was abandoned, left to forage or die, and I usually feel alone when I have strong feelings to deal with.  John is often fun and entertaining as a companion but not a "come cry on my shoulder" type of person--or at least I haven't asked for that type of support from him.  

Emotional support is what I get from other women--and now from a dog, a lion hunter.  

I do feel a kinship with this beast, as surprising to me as love for a woman late in life was to C.S. Lewis.

Perhaps I am a lion hunter too--running long distances, impulsive and lunging for the gut when my instinct prompts me, quiet until that one big yelp.