You Shall Know Our Velocity

I love my boyfriend. God, do I love him.

Went to Hershey Park today, and got mild heat stroke. He dragged me into a nearby air-conditioned restaurant where we drank a ton of water, then a few beers and talked about us and life and just anything and everything for hours.

I couldn’t help but smile also thinking of a few nights ago when I started into one of my panic attacks while we were out to dinner and he drove me back to his place, where he just rubbed my back and talked quietly to me while I lay curled up in a ball, shaking and hyperventilating and crying, until I was able to calm down and relax. I apologized profusely, so embarrassed because I never wanted him to see that. He told me he didn’t care and just wanted to take care of me, in any way he could. He lay with me through the night, talking and making sure I was all right.

We spent last night hanging out and drinking beer while watching burn notice, then enjoyed each others company, went to Jennie’s for a midnight run, sleep, a good morning of lying around listening to music and talking, then lunch at DJ’s Taste of the 50s.

I just love him and the fact that we can be so happy together. It’s crazy to me that I actually found someone like him, someone I can love and who loves me, who makes me feel so safe and wanted.

I’m going to stop rambling and just sum this up in an emoticon.

:)

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.

“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”

And here I thought I wasn’t going to cry today…

(Source: stephaniekilbury, via emjaybuzz)

widdlez:

once-ler-bunny-pajamas:

halibear22:

ladyunlaced:

spiritracks:

margflower:

sherlockholmesanddoctorwatson:

little-hiding-owl:

disneyworldcastmembers:

…. I just died.

THUNDERING OF STAMPEDE

VERY VERY FRIGHTENING ME!

GALELEIO! GALELEIO! GALELEIO!

HAKUNA MATA-TA-TA

I’M JUST A POOR CUB, NOBODY LOVES ME

HE’S JUST A POOR CUB FROM A ROYAL FAMILY

SPARING HIS GUILT FROM THIS MONSTROSITY

Easy come easy go

where did Simba go?

Timon and Pumba knOOOw just where he did go

Where’d he go?

Timon and Pumba knOOOW just where he did go

Where’d he go?

Timon and Pumba knOOOW just where he did go

Where’d he go?

Just where did he go?

grubs are salty and satisfYYYYing

ew ew ew ew ew ew

to Tanzania tanzania

to tanzania he did go.

He must return to have his uncle put aside to be

to be

the KIIIIIIIIIIIING!

I love the lyrics. 

SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DETHRONE ME AND SPIT IN MY EYE

SO YOU THINK YOU CAN BANISH ME AND LEAVE ME TO DIIIIEEE

This is why i love tumblr

Tumblr NEVER change. I’m dead.

ILU Tumblr

God, I fucking love the Tumblr community.

(Source: who-isjohngalt, via roguepaperfairy)

samparker13:

I HAVE READ THAT BOOK SO MANY TIMES. AND STILL. EVERY TIME I PICK IT UP. I JUST… IT’S NOT… I CAN’T EVEN… ALKHDBFADJBF!

(via effyeahnerdfighters)