Crescent Queen

Told my story to the intake officer on Thursday. Puerto Rican gay man. Attentive, helpful, open, encouraging, a great sense of humor. He GOT what I was telling him, and told me to go for even more. Big dog lover, although he didn't start that way. Same as me. He told me he used to feel whenever someone would bring their dog somewhere that the person should be "taken outside and shot." Then his father died, and his mother was inconsolable. Nothing worked, not drugs, not therapy. Then he got her a small six pound long hair Chihuaha named Diva, but he called her "baby girl." She fell in love with the dog and began to heal. In September, Diva had to be put down and his mother is again deteriorating. And although he said he could not afford it, he was going out this weekend and get her another toy size dog. He said Diva used to sleep by his side even when he weighed 550 lbs, and he never rolled over on her. He had major surgery and is now a healthy weight, and looks fit and trim. He spent 3 1/2 hours with me. Our connection was healing for me, even though he won't be the one making the decision. Because of my empathy with his story and his with mine, he said I should consider a career in counseling. I didn't say so, but been there, done that, still do that. People are always telling me things they have never told anyone else. It is a privilege, and gives my life great meaning.

Fenway, the underweight dachshund at the pit bull awareness day festival in the park, was adopted by one of the women who work in the greenhouse. She knows Reiki and did some on Fenway when he first came to her house, and he settled right in. A perfect match. And I made a connection with the woman who was carrying Fenway around all day till he was adopted.

Rachel and I went to see "The Veiled Monologues" at the New Theatre on Thursday. The play is on tour, and although much of the content was familiar to me, I loved watching the women perform.

I hate the NPR fundraising drives.