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A Note for Dos – Intro
Perhaps it's worth celebrating that I’ve written consistently for five weeks. The best, and most advantageous way to celebrate is to keep writing.
Thus, I write to you today:
This is the second time I’ve felt compelled to change the concept of the week’s note, just hours before it is released to the world (120 people or so).
In both instances I’ve been inspired by the elusiveness of time.
Two weeks ago, I lost track of time while creating and thus mused on the preciousness of it.
This week, I’m struck by the gravity of certain milestones of time, and how abstract concepts such as the sun setting and rising again for 365 days becomes a second nature feeling to us all.
One year ago, on the night of January 31st, 2023, prior to an inevitable freeze, my lil pup Dos tragically passed away. If I relentlessly pursue the darkest depths of my memoires, I simply can’t recall a more hurtful experience in my life.
I often feel nothing. Then, all of a sudden, I feel everything… As I carried Dos for the last time, seemingly numb, I took note of the moment that became the most salient experience of my life.
This is only a self-help newsletter because it helps me. The expressions here are cathartic and uninhibited, perhaps best suited for a psychiatrist.
I hope, and I write to inspire you to create a space for yourself like this one, as it's much cheaper than therapy.
Heal outloud.
A Note for Dos
A year has passed now since you left me.
I’m unsure of the significance of the amount of time until it comes, and I’m shattered, seemingly out of nowhere.
But it isn’t out of nowhere. I think of you without thinking. I dream of you without dreaming. And I’m brought to tears emerging into reality, imagining a world in which your egghead and incessantly curious brown nose still press against me.
Reality is difficult. It’s much easier and enjoyable for me to exist in a place with you. Despite the impermanence, it’s visceral enough to last forever.
I feel things in this place. I feel the coolness of your paws, and the dampness of your awkwardly long tongue, licking the salt from my face. I feel the weight of your name, and the significance it represents in my family, the second of now three white rescue pitbulls.
I named a company after you. It’s my way of grieving you, and honoring you, and constantly reminding myself of your spirit in hopes it’ll keep me from fatiguing while building it as big as your heart.
Today I take solace in this journal and the picture of you in my arms. Your eyes pierce the lens, wisdom that I’ll never know shining through the clouds behind us. Although it is me that holds you, you’ve held us both from the moment you marched in the street before my open window.
The symbolism is far from lost on me. Just when I needed an angel, your white tail fluttered.
You’re still my angel, Dos, and I know your tail still shakes so enthusiastically that your whole body dances back and forth, unconditionally joyful.
Thank you for reminding me to laugh when laughing feels like the furthest thing from possible. Thank you for loving me, and spending every waking moment by my side.
Thank you for being much more than a dog. Thank you for being my best friend and expecting nothing in return.
Must love Dos.
Thank you for letting me sit with you.
– mills