inkgrrl's inkblog

World, meet Angus. Or at least his first baby picture (he’s the lightest one in the middle of the puppy pile):

This was taken back on October 3rd, when he was maybe two weeks old. We get to take him home November 20th, just in time for Thanksgiving tummy rubs. The name might seem a bit much for such a wee pup, but I assure you that wee Angus won’t be so wee for long – his daddy’s a big, beautiful light-yellow boy and his mommy’s a sweet red-haired lass who was in the right place at the right time. When we went to meet him he was maybe 4 weeks old, and he licked TGP’s chin and fell asleep on my chest – that’s how we knew he was ours. He still had that puffed wheat breath that puppies have while they’re nursing, and when I tried to put him down, squealed at me as if I hadn’t realized that the ground was coming up way too fast and that none of his buddies were down there and he’d be cold and what gives with the no snuggling? We’re gonna have to work hard not to spoil him. Hell with it. He’ll be spoiled rotten. Puppy!!!

Not there yet, but looking forward to what she said whilst eyeballing the Celebrex…

After Great Pain, by Emily Dickinson

After great pain, a formal feeling comes
The nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs
The stiff heart questions was it he, that bore,
And yesterday, or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round
Of ground, or air, or ought
A wooden way
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead
Remembered, if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow.
First chill – then stupor – then the letting go.