I didn't make it out of bed yesterday until 6...

I didn't make it out of bed yesterday until 6.  Six *PM.*  The last couple of days have taken their toll on me.

Faith is the early-riser in the house.  Was, I mean.  ... 🥺

Without her me and Booka can apparently sleep all day.  I'm sure I needed the rest, but yeah.  It's been EXCEPTIONALLY quiet and calm here.  Faith was the busy one.  Had to keep the cats in line.  Had to watch Booka eat.  Had to let us know she was out of water.  Had to go outside to pee often because she was on prednisone.  Always on the lookout for something that needed barking about.

I have gone from fostering dogs (having a max of 14 at one time [to my newer friends - check out my "Foster Kids" album if you really want to know me]) to giving my six amazing, aging forever dogs a break and some well-deserved "us" time, to my one little Booka Bear being the last man standing.  I know that Cubba and Rose live here, but they aren't "my" dogs.  Cubba was meant to be Kira's.  Rose belongs to Cubba.  If I could find either of them a good home they wouldn't be here.  They arrived long after my pack was complete and my heart was full.  I love and care for them, but we're not connected.

I feel guilty because they deserve more, but I can't give it.  I gave so much of myself for so long and I haven't been refilled.  I don't know if setting my focus on school changed me or if the agonizing loss of my pack over the last few years has hindered my capacity to give of myself.  Or it could be the mental breakdowns over the last 5 years and the medications that now hold me together.  I have no idea, but I know I am not the same.

I would still like to volunteer in rescue and foster again one day.  There is nothing like the feeling of helping someone in need; giving freely of yourself, simply CARING.  I've seen animals go from scared and hopeless to enjoying life.  I think that almost anyone can go through the motions (provide food, water, and shelter), but the secret ingredient is connection.  That makes it especially hard to give up an animal to their new forever family, but to me it's necessary for healing.  And I'm unfortunately not sure that I still have the ability to form new connections.  I feel like I've lost a part of myself somewhere along the way.

Forgive me; I'm just over here rambling.  But as I reflect on losing Faith I remember how she came to me - foster failure.  The six best friends of my life came to me during a time that I was open and helpful and connecting to life in a big way - giving and caring and changing lives.  I never searched any of them out and yet the best pack of mismatched mutts I never knew I wanted landed in my home and my heart.  I think I'm scared.  Scared that I'll never have this kind of love again.  Scared that because I'm different right now I don't deserve it.