A year ago today, my good boys - my loyal, brave and loving companions - were brutally slaughtered by RSS Security Services.
Charybdys, Chippy and Bart are now over the Rainbow bridge, but imagine my shock on getting home yesterday evening to find - for the first time in a year - canine claw marks in the putty around the lowest pane of the french doors. Putty and paint were scattered around the front door as if a dog had been desperately trying to get into the house after being shot by an ignorant, malicious security guard.
Like the birds I talked about in the last post, dogs show a range of emotions, which sometimes step over the line into psychism. It's my bet that the lone survivor of last year's massacre - Scylla - knew, without access to a calendar, what day it was.
I don't talk much about the legal action which is well under way against RSS Security Services, for good reasons. Suffice to say that I'm absolutely confident of gaining retribution for my boys.
This is a season of boundary dissolution. I feel the constructs of 50 years of life starting to give way before an openness to the light of Life, and the ego doesn't so much die as start to dissipate around the edges. I can see Grandfather Anderson now, with Charybdys, Chippy and Bart running around his ankles, in a land outside of time and space.
Take that leap in this notable time. You won't be sorry.