This week reminds me of the time I first left the real world to become a writer; it was uncertain, lonely, and very frightening. I went out and bought a Yellow Lab named Julius for some reason. Then I got another Yellow Lab named Stanley.

To this day, I believe the spirits sent me these dogs to guide me into my new life, to support and comfort me, to give me strength in ways I still don’t quite understand.

Even in crowded Northern New Jersey, I could walk these dogs off-leash and never wonder where they were. They were always beside me. They were much loved in my neighborhood and lit up people wherever they went, there was a trail of smiles.

When I bought my cabin on the mountain, they came with me and I was never lonely, not once during that cold and isolated year. T was when I discovered the power of spirit dogss.

Today I felt history was repeating itself.

I love being a writer, but it can be lonely at times.

The creative life is often lonely at times, rewarding at others. I woke up in a sad funk today. I had a dream that I died and left Maria alone. I understand that this dream is not really about her – she can take care of herself –  it is my fear of going to her one day.

I told her about my dream and we talked quite openly about it. It felt good to acknowledge this fear, and then get up and go to the gym.

I don’t plan on leaving the world anytime soon, but it gets closer every day, and I learned in my hospice work to think about that and feel it and talk about it a bit, and when the time comes, I’ll have a better shot at what we used to call a “good” death.

These funks are not frequent, but they are new, and they have shown up a few times in the past few months. I accept them and move along. They make me very sad.

Maria was off this afternoon working at our food co-op, a wind chill alert for tonight and tomorrow has just been issued, and the wind is coming up.

My return to the gym was triumphant but left me tired and achy. And so I went into a kind of work frenzy, as I did when I was upset.

I fell asleep after lunch, got up, brought in the firewood, did the dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, got and answered the mail, wrote bills, and then came into my office to work.

This kind of cold is eerily  beautiful but also draining for me. I suppose this is why they tell older people to stay inside in frigid weather. It felt perfect for sitting down in my study and beginning writing.

As I sat down to write, I felt a gentle pressure on my arm – when I write, I am aware of nothing but what is directly in front of me. I was startled and look down to see yet another Yellow Lab resting her head on my arm and looking straight into my eyes with her big brown eyes.

Somehow, these dogs have come to accompany me on this journey into creativity and writing, which I believe is my destiny and calling. They are spirit dogs; they come for a reason and leave when their work is done.

Zinnia was doing her work today.

I don’t know what she was thinking, but I know what I was hearing. Hey, it’s okay. The black dog came by, and a white dog has replaced him. I’m here, watching over you, being with you.

I wanted to cry (but didn’t). I scratched her ears and under her chin, which she loves, and we just started at one another for a few minutes. Then I got to work, and she went to sleep and is snoring still.

We have great love for  each other, I can almost touch it.