Page 10 of A Furry Thing Called Love
Shutting the door behind me firmly, I turn the deadbolt, because I’m fully convinced the pig knows how to open doors.
“Free me!Free me!”The chant starts up as I walk through the house, until I get to what is supposed to be the dining room.
Rodey flaps his wings and hops up and down on his perch when he sees me, then whistles a few times, before starting up the “free me” chant once more.
Snorting, I grab his food first, portioning out a small bit of seeds to go with the pellets.
Rodey flaps his wings once more when I open the door to his cage and dump the cup of food into his feeder.He sings a tune I’ve come to recognize as his “thank you”, because God forbid he actually says the words without being sarcastic.
That done, I leave him to his dinner, latching the door to the cage so it stays open, then he can come and go as he pleases once finished.
After putting the scoop back in the bird food, I get Indie’s dinner ready, and then grab a small scoop of grain for Juniper.
Heading out the backdoor with Juniper’s food, I’m almost assaulted by said goat once she realizes what I have.Pouring the grain into her bowl, I check on the waterer, making sure it’s functioning correctly still.It’s a brand-new addition to our little enclosure, so I want to make sure everything is okay.Call me paranoid, but the temperatures are starting to climb, and I don’t want my babies to get dehydrated.
I spend a few minutes petting Porter, while he still tries to get any food he can out of my pockets—along with some non-food items.Luckily for him, I grabbed a few treats while I got Juniper’s food.
He always gets fed after Juniper because the scavenger in him will clean up whatever she doesn’t eat, so to try to keep an eye on his weight and calorie consumption.I’ve learned in what order I should feed the hellions.
After an hour sitting outside playing with Juniper—and finally feeding Porter—I head inside to feed myself.
Indie follows me into the house, Juniper mournfully bleating at the back door.She so badly wants to be a house goat again, but we’ve mostly gotten that urge out of her after hand-raising her last fall.
A house goat might sound like a good idea, and cute in theory, but no.First, the screaming; secondly, the diapers.
While it was easier on me to have her in the house when I was bottle feeding her, and she was too small to fend for herself outside, the diapers were a learning curve I never expected.
“My baby,” Rodey says, flying over to sit on the other side of the sliding door, staring at Juniper.
I snort at the bird, but leave the parrot and goat to entertain themselves as I get a quick dinner together for myself.It’s not much; the last of my sandwich meat, and whatever random veggies are in the fridge for a small salad.Grocery shopping gets put to the top of tomorrow’s to-do list after my appointments.
Who needs dating?This is perfect.Eating dinner standing up in my kitchen, while my menagerie runs amok around me, demanding attention and/or food.Nothing else matters except this.
Dating just…complicates things that don’t need to be complicated.So, realizations over how much I’m still heartbroken or not, ex-flings that became more that are now back in town or not, it doesn’t matter.I’m content exactly as I am.
Lies taste faintly of turkey and tomato, but no one has to know they’re lies except me.It’s fine.
Chapter7
Arlo
When I was first diagnosed,and even before, waking up each morning to discover what was wrong with me that day was terrifying.Now, I can’t quite say I’m used to my body not always being mine; some days, discovering which parts of me want to work or not is frustrating as hell, but I don’t hate waking anymore.Most of the time, that is.
The days when my legs don’t want to work right, and the weakness in them threatens to buckle me, are the ones I spend most of my time in bed.
The fatigue is real, but I can mostly push through that.Eventually, you get used to the ever-constant exhaustion, even the lack of energy, but the weakness that can come with it is an entirely different thing.It only adds to whatever my body is already going through that day.
Today is a moderate day.My body is heavy, and I’m a little unsteady on my feet, but overall, aside from already needing a nap, I don’t feel too bad.
Early on in my diagnosis, even these types of days would knock me down a few pegs.The emotional exhaustion is sometimes worse than the physical when it comes to this disease.Knowing that every day is a new discovery in how my body is going to fail me, and even the “good” days can be landmines.
It…took a long time to be this comfortable in my own skin again.To feel as if I was more than just my illness.
Jordan helped a lot with that.His…kindness, his enthusiasm, and his overall positivity—but not the toxic kind my mother likes to use—are what got me through that summer three years ago.Not that I ever got the courage to tell him that, knowing I was going to break his heart when I left…
Fuck, I’m a mess.
Grabbing my mug, I turn too fast and the dizziness that sweeps over me lets me know it.
