I took Jazz to the vet yesterday for her annual check-up. It is always an ordeal. She hates the place and as soon as she hears the vet's voice, she digs her claws into whatever is nearby and starts to growl. They have a system for dealing with this type of feline: no one touches her until she is wrapped in a towel and held by an assistant equipped with thick gloves. Then the examination begins. Poor Jazz. Poor vet. This is not how the relationship is supposed to work. One is concerned for the well-being of the other, and genuinely likes the other; there should be affection and gratitude and respect and trust and good communication flowing between them. Instead, there is a wall of distrust and the interaction takes on a hostile and defensive quality.
Sad to say, I have some relationships like this in my life. Somewhere along the line, in the course of living and interacting and making mistakes and saying things one did not think through and disappointing people and being disappointed and not understanding where someone is coming from, there have been walls erected. I wear my feelings, blatantly evident, on my face and in my voice and that is not always helpful. If you ask, we would say we are friends, but distrust has lodged its splinter between us and I am at a bit of a loss as to how to bridge the chasm.
Today I am feeling discouraged and judgmental, seeing what an un-lover I can be, pushing away the very people I want to have a heart for, that want to have a heart for me. God, undress my bitterness, strip off my stinking garments of self-protection and self-righteousness, and bathe me in your love again. Let my grudges dissolve in the bottomless ocean of your affection and acceptance. Let the hostilities end with me and the surrender begin right here.
This is Jazz, peacefully asleep, less than 24 hours after she terrorised the professionals at Hôpital Vétérinaire de l'Ile.