I view it would be the perfect closure to a summer that defied all my expectations.I really expected to drop most of the summer on the Prairie, getting my brains fucked out, but that was not to be. The summer started out promisingly enough. I managed to get to the Prairie at least 4 years a week. It was shaping up to be my most social summer ever, with people talk to me like never before. I felt part of a community and while I wasn`t necessarily attracted to all of them, we all seemed to get on well. I thought I was really making friends for the start sentence in a long time. It wasn`t simply pleasantries that were being exchanged. Copious amounts of data regarding the gay community and what was going on in Minneapolis and Chicago was shared. The conspiracy theories were always my favorites, followed by gossip about any given individual that happened to look on the radar of the Prairie die-hards. There was likewise a big mass of meditation as to the motivations of the Parks and Recreation department (or as I liked to address them, Parks and Wrecks) and their plans and care of the Prairie. They mowed it once early in the temper and everyone was up in arms around it. Fortunately that was the alone time they chose to do that and, last I checked, the Prairie grasses were as eminent as an elephant`s eye.For me, everything changed on June 7th, with the end of one of my Chihuahuas, Paco. I wrote about that in an earlier entry, found here: http://wonderlandburlesque.blogspot.com/2010/06/hearts-stop.htmlHis passing shook me in a way that I had not experienced in a long time, if ever. I rarely cried before that date, but since then tears have become an almost daily thing. A month later, I thinking I was feeling better, well enough to give to the Prairie. But my return would be short-lived.Mona, my three and half year old Deer Chihuahua had a genetic abnormality th
at needed surgical attention. Two weeks later, she had recovered sufficiently and I thought things were near to yield to normal, but complications set in. Then she developed a serial of severe reactions to the drugs she was taking post surgery, and then complications to the drugs prescribed to weaken the symptoms of the original reactions. Then she missed the use of her hind legs.Spoiler alert: It doesn`t end well.It all came to a head at 3:00 am, on August 7th - two months to the day since Paco went away. I`m not going into details, but the experience - its tactile elements (the humidity, the stern of night, the silence, the terror) - haunt me to this day. She was just 3 and a half years old. I felt cheated. She was entirely in my spirit for six months. She was the most beautiful dog I get always seen. The few photos I have of her but don`t do her justice.She came into my spirit at a sentence when I wasn`t sure I had room in my heart. Paco`s enlarged heart and faulty valve had hardly been diagnosed and I was hopeful that the drugs prescribed would hold the inevitable and improve his choice of life. Mona came with a lot of emotional baggage. She lived in an apartment and was never allowed to go outside, except to do her business. Her owner had to hand her up because there was a 3 year old in the family who was hell hang on terrorizing the poor dog, to the place where injury to the creature was a distinct possibility. Naturally, she was less than thrilled when she first arrived at my house. She had never been some other dogs before and there was a definite point of adjustment. She was terrified of being outside, and walks were a new experience undertaken with great trepidation. But she did adjust. In fact, she and Paco got on quite well.Then things began to go bad for Paco, which took a lot of care and metre from Mona.In the end, it isn`t so often that I feel cheated because I missed her so soon, but I feel horribly guilty for having cheated her out of a big care of prime time. She deserved more. Her sweetheart and elegance astounded me. I loved to see her go and sit. In my head and soul, she remains this beautiful ghost, an enigma I never got the opportunity to solve.In the end_ I will never experience what exactly went so terribly wrong. It was a serial of unfortunate events that seemed to prey on each other to the target of total annihilation. I will never experience the true cause of her deteriorating health or if I made the right decision when I put her down. That guilt kills me. It eats away 
at me, gnawing on the corners of my psyche. All I wish is to give her back. All I wish is a 2nd chance. And so, I lapsed into silence, unable to write. Not really living, so often as existing while questioning that being all the while.For a brief time, it was just Beau, my 13 year old Chihuahua and I, left to form through what remained in the heat of our losses. After Mona died, I told myself, no more dogs. Beau and I began to reconnect in a way that we had not been affiliated since our early years, alone, together. After all the play of Paco and Mona`s deaths, I felt such relief, although I likewise felt the family had gotten much too quiet.And then, along came Millie.She`s two years old, weighs 4.8 lbs. and is blind. It`s a delivery that one of my sisters has been running on for over a class and a half. The lot and events of Millie`s first 2 years are rather horrific, to say the least. My baby was mindful of the site and kept asking if she could make the dog. Finally the owners relented and a week after Mona had died, I got a telephone call. The timing sucked, but I couldn`t say no. I`m glad I didn`t.Considering she is a full-blood Chihuahua and all that she has been done in her short lift, Millie is an absolute sweetheart; so loving and sweet. I didn`t realize she was blind until three years after her arrival. I knew something was up, but it took a call to the vet to support my worst fears. Amazingly, her condition seems to give no affect on her enjoyment of spirit and the masses about her. She relies on her heightened senses of feeling and listening to sail and her store of spatial configurations is astounding.I`m glad she`s part of my life. There remains a vast hole in my heart, but Millie now occupies a bit of it.The dark I took Mona to the emergency vet, as we descended into what felt like, not death, but the commencement of a lack of life, an Annie Lennox song came into my mind and a month and half later, still has not left_This is the good of the baby`s first breathThe marching of foot stepsThe touching of fleshTo hold in your memoryTo keep near to your chestWe`re lost_And, now_ we are found.
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