Occasionally I’m stunned speechless by a synchronicity that spins my head.  Here is the story of Maximus.

Ever since I met and fell in love with this dog, I’ve thought about him.  Of late, knowing that I’ll be returning to PDX, I’ve been secretly hoping the woman who adopted him, Michelle (#2), will have decided that for some reason, she can’t care for him anymore and would be willing to let me take him home to Portland.  It’s been four months since I left Maximus in her very capable hands and although I know he’s in a great place – I am selfish and I’ve been fantasizing about him hangin’ with me.

So for weeks now, I’ve thought abut calling, but ultimately, I end up not doing it.  Then finally, this morning at about 10:15 I called her number.  Her answering machine picked up and rather than fumble through a voicemail about how I really want her dog – I hung up without leaving a message.

At a little after at 1:30 I got a call on my cell from a number I didn’t recognize so I answer it and hear, “Hello? Athena? Hi, you might not remember me, but you brought a dog to the Best Friends Animal Shelter.  I’m Michelle (#2).”

“Of course I remember you. I’m sorry about not leaving a message this morning but I hate leaving voicemails when I can’t think of what to say.”

“You called me? I don’t have caller ID.”

WOW!

3 hours and fifteen minutes after I cold call her  - she cold calls me.  Four months have passed – how weird is that?

We chat and she tells me how great he’s doing.  His official name is now Hugo, but he answers to Goofus.  He’s back up to a healthy weight and he’s a great companion, a fabulous friend and super well behaved.  She thanked me over and over again for picking him up off the side of the road – and I thanked her over and over for giving him such a loving and wonderful home. 

Again I checked that she didn’t know I’d called her just three hours earlier, and was amazed that for some reason, it felt like – as far as Maximus/Hugo is concerned – the Universe aligned perfectly for him to find love, finally.

Toward the end of the conversation, although I already knew she wouldn’t part with him I had to put in my, “If you ever for some reason… I mean, if something comes up… If –well…”

“Forget it!” she said.  “He’s MINE!” She laughed.  “He’s with me till the day he dies.”

“I figured, but I was hoping.”

She laughed again and I said, “Well, if you guys ever want to visit me in Portland come on over!”

She extended the invitation for a visit as well and when we hung up, even though I was awash at the shop beneath the Valentines hell of flower overdose – I felt such a sense of calm.  Peace.  Unity.  Puzzle pieces fell into exactly the right place and no matter how much you try to explain the harmony – you just can’t.  Hugo is right where he should be.

Another interesting development is that the woman who took Hercules, my other love, is also named Michelle which is why Hugo’s Michelle has a #2 after it.  Anyway, Michelle #1 sent me an email a few weeks ago saying she is expecting a baby and because I had asked her to contact me should she need to rehome Hercules, she was asking if I wanted him back.  I responded to her email before I knew I would be returning to PDX and said I wouldn’t be able to get him till April since I still didn’t have any stability.  Since then, I’ve been apartment hunting for dog friendly homes and I hope to be resettled by March 1^st.  I emailed Michelle #1 to tell her the good news last week but my emails keep getting bounced back.  Some sort of mail failure notice keeps being sent to my inbox! Since I know I gave Michelle #1 a BlissQuest card, I’m hoping she reads this and contacts me in regards to Hercules. 

Michelle, if you need to find Hercules a new home – please, get a hold of me first! I’ll happily take the cranky little beast back.  Please call me!

It’s not lost on me that in this one year, I’ve given two dogs I fell in love with, to new homes both with women named Michelle.

How weird is that?

Frothy clouds of lavender scuttle through my dreamscape fields of shattered marble statues.  Goliath torsos and scattered limbs, bone-white on the bloody turf, reaching in supplication to the foaming sky.

I saw you run here.  I know that you are somewhere hidden in the forest of stone memories.  They all want something from you and you have nothing left to give.  Hiding in plain view I see you creep around, past eyes that cannot see and ears that cannot hear.  I watch you tiptoe under noses chiseled from blank faces and left to erode on the ground next to forgotten signposts pointing the direction to redemption.

I call out, curious why you are hiding in the midst of such chaos, and know immediately I have done something wrong by the way your face contorts in fear.  Slowly, giants rumble to life, grasping scattered limbs and reattaching them to bodies sculpted in the latest fashion.  I see you blazing toward me - waving your arms and shouting “Run!”

Yet, my feet stand rooted to the red-soaked grass, bewildered by your apparent terror. One massive creature, all planes of perfection, not born but created, gains his feet and each step he takes in pursuit of you the ground rumbles with ominous portent.  His gaping mouth opens and out into my dreamscape pours a terrible moan, long and full of urgency-warning-doom.  My bones hum against the frequency as your fist closes tight about my wrist and your momentum spins my still stunned body in your direction.  Feet moving of their own volition I stagger-run behind you, half dragged and shaking.  The ground crashes rhythmically as the monster’s footsteps bounce us repeatedly off our own feet. I get tired but you don’t let me rest.  I get fearful but you don’t let me look back.

A chasm looms in the distance, and I know you are racing us to death.  Then through a shift of light I see that you are not Nicolas at all.  Who are you? I came for Nicolas.

Caught between marble memories, angry and abused – and the pending drop of untold distance I startle myself awake.

Nicolas, where are you? What have you done?

I stare at the black ceiling, heart racing - blood slick and hot, pulsing violently in my limbs.  My body lathered and shivering.  Even as I try to dose myself with logic – even as I pant and delve into my greatest stash of wholesome reason – I cannot stop the sense that it was real. 

Nicolas. Where are you Nicolas?