This day...

This day.  This day three years ago lingers still.  It guts me, at times, to daily see the damage that pit bull wrought on my puppy dog.  We are both so very different creatures.  Truly, the most violent experience of my life ... our lives.

Since I had naked limes (from the Blueberry Lime Muffins), I did quite a bit of cooking last night.  Since I had naked limes and I was thinking about what happened that day.  In making the Thai Honey Peanut Chicken, I realized a mistake I made in freezing it.

Do you see the difference?

These were the last freezer jars of the dish.  Do you see the mistake now??

In the other jars, as I thawed them, what I ended up with was chicken with peanut flavored rice.  By that I mean the rice absorbed all the peanut sauce.  Now, I very much prefer spaghetti the next day, when the pasta is all bloated with sauce, but I do not prefer rice this way.  So, I made the chicken and sauce, let it cool and solidify some, then cooked the rice and added it to the top. I think ... I hope ... this will make for a more same-as-fresh-cooked experience with this dish.

If you look in the background, I used the other lime with Chipotle Chicken Chili.  And, with all the chicken thawing I was doing, I went ahead and made the chicken for Lemon Chicken Gyros with Feta and Tzatziki.  Mostly, I did this 1) because I have more of the smaller jars empty than any other and 2) because I found extra gyro dough balls when I was re-organizing the freezer portion of my kitchen refrigerator.  All of this I had planned to make throughout the month.  This and stew.  Only I need to eat six more meals before I can make the stew.

Mary asked if rutabaga were like yellow carrots, and I realized I never posted a picture of this (rather ugly) root vegetable.

Who in the world looked at this and thought:  Gee, I want to eat this!

I had read that peeling them was hard, since the skin is waxy and thick.  However, that peeler I have—with which I nearly always manage to also peel slices off my person—made for little work in rendering naked the rutabaga I used.  So, now I am actually glad that I have that very, very, very sharp peeler.

Anyway, no one ever seems to remember what a horrid day this was ... and still is.  I've actually stopped trying to talk about it and have not brought it up this year as the date drew near.  In truth, even after the attack, few really acknowledged its horror and damage.  It is something that I feel so alone about ... alone then and now.

The PTSD, for me, is actually better.  In part, this is because the memory of that day is no longer in my mind.  That such a horrific act is gone actually distresses me.  Normally, forgetting would be a good thing, but so much is lost in my mind and to have something that left such a strong mark on my life gone has been hard for me to swallow.

I still react to the sight of pit bulls.
Large dogs.
Dogs running loose.

Amos, my poor puppy, remains an aspen leaf quaking in the wind. Always. Fearful of a great host of things ... dogs, grass, people, voices, cars, etc.  Plagued by a startle response that is both extraordinary and heartbreaking to witness.

Last night, whilst cooking up the freezer meals, Amos threw up.  I did not notice and walked right through it.  He has—after chowing down something he shouldn't—had vomited before.  Because I was lost in thought about this day, I did not really think about the pile of regurgitated dinner on my floor (and sock).  But last night my little fluff ball was actually ill.  He vomited twice more to empty his stomach.  Then, about every 30 minutes, he kept heaving.  Even after all the yellow, foamy bile was gone.

As the night wore on, I tried to get him to drink water, but he would not.  I began to wonder if we needed to go to the emergency clinic.  Yes, money was on my mind, but more so I was worried because I had never seen Amos so utterly miserable ... except for the time he spent recovering from the damage to his body the pit bull wrought.

Around 3:00 AM, Amos finally settled down at my side.
And he did not wake me at 5:00-ish for his breakfast.

Around 11:00,  when getting up for fresh ice packs, Amos raised his head off the pillow and just looked at me.  I asked him if he wanted some food and my puppy executed a rather energetic leap off the bed.  He immediately drank some water and then, once prepared, enthusiastically downed his breakfast.  We went back to bed until 2:00 PM, when he got up for a long draining of the water bowl. He's been perky all day, so I guess he ate something he shouldn't have when I was cooking and not with him.  Something.  Something I cannot fathom.

So, I was sitting out on the back steps, thinking about this day and how worried I was about Amos last night.  I simply cannot fathom life without him.  Even at seven months old, even when we had been joined at the hip for just five months, the cries of the men who encouraged me to just let the pit bull have Amos fell on deaf ears.  Even then I already couldn't imagine life without him.

Then, whilst waiting for Amos to conduct his business after dinner, thinking, my neighbor broke through my reverie and told me to look at the weigela.  She had found a hummingbird on a gardening stake and thought it belonged in my yard.

Hours.
Hours I've spent sitting on the back steps.
Now, I have company whilst waiting on Amos!

My neighbor did not remember what this day is for me, even though she saw its aftermath.  She actually has never given me anything except for food from her old job or a contraband doughnut from an outing.  So, I was surprised.  She did not remember, but I sort of wonder if her unexpected, most lovely of gifts, was because God did.

I keep thinking about that verse.

Did Saul know that God was sending the harmful spirit?  Did he know that God had abandoned him? Did he understand he had lost his faith?  How could he not?  What of the world sang a siren's call louder to Saul than the Word of God?  How is it, that even lost, David's playing soothed him?

SIGH.

I do like this bit of Bonhoeffer:

In Psalm 69, verse 5 tends to cause difficulty because here Christ complains to God about his foolishness and guilt.  Certainly David spoke here of his personal guilt. But Christ speaks of the guilt of all men, also about the guilt of David and my own guilt which he has taken upon himself, and borne, and for which he now suffers the wrath of the Father.  The true man Jesus Christ payer in the Psalm and includes us in his prayer (36-37).