September 11th - from a different angle

Even though yesterday was Beckett's first birthday, I decided not to post this until today in the interest of letting yesterday's 9/11 post sit at the top of my blog awhile longer. 

Certainly, Beckett's September 11th (2011) birthday endears me to him even more, as a reminder of how signicant a date can really be.  And that date, in particular.  Though Beckett was born into an unfortunate beginning - the runt of his litter and a parasite- and flea-filled dropoff at a local, horribly overcrowded but very loving shelter, his amazing strength and beauty still strikes me as something of a miracle.  In fact, on occassion I have even admitted to myself that, given his initial circumstances, there is no logical explanation for why he survived at all.

Fortunately, I'm not a huge fan of logic.  Because sometimes, things just are.  Sometimes, we survive despite the obstacles. Often we survive because of them.  Perhaps that is why I have allowed myself to believe that Beckett was as destined to come into my life as I was fated to care for his.  Together, we continue to figure out our own rules and establish our own "logic" as we go.  And so far, it works just fine for us.

So now that I am officially the parent of a one year-old dog whose bark has become noticably deeper and whose little baby paws have grown noticably larger, I am amazed that this once sickly little 7-pound guy has not only survived his first year of life (ten months of which he spent in my often frazzled and learn-as-you-go care), he is a healthy, loving, brilliant little ball of energy with an old soul and a forever-youthful spirit.

I have written a lot about Beckett, so I know that anything I could add here would be repetitive, but I couldn't let his birthday go by without acknowledging the joy he has brought to my life.  His constant presence is a gift, and while my tendency to worry endlessly about his health and his care and his wellbeing tires us both at times, I am so grateful that Beckett requires so much of my energy (and what he doesn't require he kindly tolerates) becaise he has truly taught me to lighten up - on life and on myself.  More than anything, he has given me the gift of such pure joy --  I can't quite remember a time when a shopping trip didn't end in the excitement of a new chew toy or squeaky bone, or when I didn't head out for an evening walk with a leash in one hand and a pooper scooper in the other  - and no room for my cellphone.

I decided to write this post not only because I couldn't imagine not writing something about Beckett's big day, but because last weekend, while I sat in the hair salon, I listened to people around me talking about how unfortunate it was that they knew people with birthdays, anniversaries, and other once-happy occassions on September 11th.  The day will always be a dark one, even as time goes by.  And  I wonder if it is even okay to celebrate these small moments, modestly and with respect, when the memory of terror will always (should always?) cling to that day.  So I wonder how other people feel, or whether others have special occassions that they are celebrating differently  - or not at all - since 2001.  Does it help the healing to move forward with something positive and familiar, or is it somehow insensitive to acknowledge anything other than the events of that terror-filled day?

Leave your thoughts ...

Until next time,
~ Hasky