Journey Across the Big Pee

Foster Boy (aka Wheeless Wheelie) here.

It's time to tell my own story.

I'm Real, you know.

And my Voice has been restored.

No longer am I a neglected tattered old dog

sitting on a shelf.

I've become Alive again.

With a Heart and a Soul.

Full of Love.

Restored Love.

The day had come for me to leave

my foster home at Square Dog House.

My family in the Rocky Mountains of America was waiting for me.

My bag was carefully packed with traveling essentials for my trip across the Big Pee.

OtisKittie checked to be sure everything was included.

(FosterMom had thought of everything I might want or need.)

picture by SquareDogFamily

Otis and Miss Enid assured me I was ready and that all would be well.

I was nervous.

 And I was feeling pretty sad.

(So were they, I think.)

picture by SquareDogFamily

It came time to say my goodbyes.

Otis purred encouragement and reminded me that I am strong.

picture by SquareDogFamily

Eric the Square Dog gave me a last few pointers.

I tried to understand.

(I think he was really trying to bite my neck.)

picture by SquareDogFamily

Miss Enid promised to write and told me she'd miss my company.

(I knew I'd miss her terribly.)

picture by SquareDogFamily

And FosterMom gave me one last long hug goodbye.

She loved me. I know she did.

picture by SquareDogFamily

FosterMom wrapped me carefully in soft blankets

And gently padded my sore feet and weak neck.

Eric helped to pack me up in my big blue traveling bag.

(He had a determination that I sensed and tried to understand.

I knew there was more to him than I'd been able to figure out

in the few months I'd lived in his Square Dog House.)

picture by SquareDogFamily

I'd like to think he was kissing me goodbye.

But I sort of had my doubts.

And I left.

On a long journey across the water and half way across America.

And they all stood and watched me float away.

My Foster Family.

From Square Dog House.

I traveled over open water.

It wasn't long before I no longer saw land.

The isolation and quiet gave me time to think.

I began to feel a peaceful sense of certainty

about who I am and what my value is.

I drifted along.

Time passed.

The sun set and the moon rose.

In the darkness of the night, I recognized myself, again,

as someone more than the charming, kind sentimental sort of fellow

I had been described as being.

And I kept drifting along.

The sun rose the next morning.

And heated my chilly bones.

Still Westward I moved.

Toward my new home.

I quietly considered some basic truths

about my heartfelt longings.

I kept floating. Pushed gently by the winds.

Later that day

A storm gathered.

Amidst it, I realized that living through life challenges

had led me to become the very wheeless wheelie that I am now am.

I was ready to proudly reclaim everything

that makes me Unique.

I am Real.

I am the only Me.

And I feel no Anxiety, no Shame, no Wrong.

I accept myself fully and completely

as a Real, therefore imperfect, Wheelie.

The weather cleared.

And I slept.

Dreaming of what my life had been

and what it was about to become.

When I woke up I noticed the ridge of low mountains my new family had described.

The hogback, they called it.

They said once I saw it, I'd be in sight of my new home.

I wondered if they were watching for me.

Slowly I lowered and drifted over a house.

And the balloon dropped down toward a grassy front yard.

My bright blue traveling bag was laid in the grass.

Along with my smaller light blue package of special items.

The ones FosterMom had packed.

I had arrived.

I was home.

But still wrapped in blue plastic.

I rested. And waited.