If my friends only knew that sending me a picture of their pets now and then would be enough for me to know they were thinking about me, I’d be a happier camper. Early this morning, my symptoms woke me up yet again. I’ve been told I’m not having a heart attack when something under my ribs on the left side quivers and sends shooting pains down my left arm, but my dreams don’t quite understand that yet. I can lie there, breathing slowly in and out, but my mind interprets these symptoms in a way that’s similar to the drop in a roller coaster. So, I wake up in the wee hours and it isn’t a gentle and reassuring way to wake up.
I love when people on Twitter ask for photos of people’s pets. I love them. Once in a while it hurts because someone will look like Teddy or Indy or Angel, but mostly, I feel better looking at the furry little faces that stare so lovingly into the cameras. They are a balm and sometimes I forget for a while that it feels like I’m in the back seat of the car with my Great Aunt Kate who spent most of her time driving on the wrong side of the road, ran all stop signs, and never glided to a stop in her life. She always made for a close-your-eyes-heart-in-your-throat kind of ride and holding my dog in the back seat would have been a comfort.
So, please keep posting those pictures. Don’t fall for the message some serious people send that the Internet is too important for us to be sending out photos of our babies. It’s a critical mission for those of us who need that.
I can hear Seth in the other room interrupting Mike’s work. They’re having a conversation about it.
Thank you for listening, jules