Miss Bijoux

It was a brisk ,winter's night in Santa Barbara in February of 2015. I had just gotten back into ballroom dancing after what was (and up to this point still is) the worst year of my life. For once, I don't really wan't to go into too much detail, but I'll tell you the basics. I'll only go into the monumental things that sucked on a life altering scale.

2014 started off with hearing the news that my "second mom" had died suddenly, under suspicious circumstances. With in an hour of that phone call, my on-again, off-again, long-distance relationship with my first, REAL love ended by me dropping him at the airport as he causally mentioned that our relationship wasn't working out for him (and it never would). We had taken a few breaks here and there over the years, but I had always believed we'd eventually work it out. Our relationship had spanned 14 the better part of four years.

If that wasn't enough, I had been in a year long law suit attempting to sue my previous boss who had followed me home one night after work, broke into my house, and sexually assaulted me. There wasn't enough "evidence" to press criminal charges, so this law suit was my only real chance at gaining any justice or closure for this horrific experience. The case was stagnating in mediation. It wouldn't be resolved for another year and a half.

My new business venture wasn't taking off either, so I was the poorest I had ever been, and I was going into massive debt. My drinking started to spiral out of control, and that culminated in me washing down thirty 10mg pills of Valium with two-plus bottles of chardonnay. My neighbor saved my life by kicking my door down and calling 911, after he happened to see me stand up and pass out from his kitchen window. That happened in April.

Then there was the extended stay in the psychiatric ward, where I was treated for addiction, depression, PTSD, among other psychological disorders I've experienced since childhood. That was super fun. Hold on. We haven't even made it to June yet. It's just getting good....or bad. However you want to look at it.

Following that lovely vacation from reality, there was my outpatient rehab program that basically became my second full-time job. It required a minimum of 6 hours a day, 5 days a week for a minimum of six months. Only, I paid them. They didn't pay me. The people running the program weren't nice or helpful at all. They were cold, careless and almost condescending. They just told me that I was a hopeless alcoholic with nearly zero percent change of true recovery (based on statistics), and only made me feel worse about myself than I already did. However, I DID remain sober....for about 15 months. I'm fine now, after a few rough patches of trial and error.

I wasn't really going out much due to all my time being split between my failing business, 30 hours a week in the program, being sober, and totally broke. Yet I had managed to meet a friend near the end of summer who was incredibly shy, which I related to quite well. He wanted to learn how to dance so he could try meeting some new women in a setting other than a bar. I told him I'd show him the basic steps before he went to his first "real" lesson so he wouldn't feel as nervous. During our first pre-lesson, the fist time he sent me out for the most basic of basic spins, he let go of my hand, and I went flying.

A razor-sharp, crystal glass sitting innocently on my coffee table broke my fall as I put my hands out to catch myself. It sliced through my arm like a hot knife through butter, severing all five tendons that controlled my fingers as well as two nerves. It also nipped the main artery in my forearm, and I nearly bled out before the ambulance arrived. Two surgeries and nineteen-thousand dollars later, I regained 90% mobility back in my left hand... after four moths of physical therapy. Woohoo! That happened the first week of October.

You may be thinking how badly 2020 has sucked for all of us, but I would probably relive 2020 a hundred times over before I would ever volunteer to relive 2014. I pretty much stayed inside and away from people for the remainder of the year. I wasn't about to go out and risk testing whatever else karmic energy had out for me. I think I paid my karmic dues for the foreseeable future that year.

So this brings us back to that chilly Friday night in February, 2015. I was at the Cabrillo rec center, where they held a social dance the first and third Friday of every month. It was literally the first time I felt safe venturing out into public after the massive cascade of disasters that had recently ensued. Plus, both of my hands finally worked again.

That evening, I ended up meeting an artist who would change my life in many ways, but one very important way which I never expected. I was also an artist, so we talked shop a bit. I told him how hard it was not being able to paint for four months, or do much of anything. After a while of chatting, he eventually asked if I would model for a series of paintings he was working on.

I was reluctant to model for a complete stranger after everything I had recently been through. Plus, he wasn't offering to pay me for working for him. He said he'd provide whatever I wanted to eat or drink for that afternoon, and that he'd keep it very professional. Right. I've been in the art world a while. Nothing about it is really "professional", even though we artists like to pretend it is. What else would be in it for me? He had to sweeten the deal a little. I told him I didn't think I wanted to do any modeling for him.

Then the clincher came. He said his Chihuahua mix had just given birth to a litter of puppies ten days previously. It could be fun for me to play with them while I modeled. SOLD! I will take off my clothes for puppies any day of the week. Just tell me the date and give me an address. Anything I wanted to eat or drink AND play with puppies? Double bonus.

We found a weekend that worked for both of us, and I spent the majority of the day modeling for various sketches, nibbling on my favorite treats and cuddling the puppies. He said not to get attached because they were already assigned to people who wanted to adopt them.

His recent ex girlfriend had be walking by the humane society during their free spay and neuter day. A man was waiting outside with this little chihuahua and started up a conversation with her. He said that he really couldn't keep the dog and was planning to hand her over once he got inside. Instead, the artist's recent ex girlfriend offered to take the dog off him and bring her home.

The artist and his then girlfriend had a seventeen year old, intact dog that was nearing the end of his days. This woman thought this chihuahua would lighten the grief they were bound to feel once the old dog passed. Neither of them expected the ancient doggo was still capable of breeding. It didn't take long before they discovered how wrong they were.

Long story short, it wasn't even an hour before they were found stuck together, and they were soon expecting puppies. The little chihuahua wasn't even a year old yet, so they really didn't think a littler of puppies was a risk they had to consider. Nature had other plans.

On February 9th, 2015 a very special puppy was born at 11:38 pm. After midnight on February 10th, the other puppies came along. They were all totally blonde with no markings, except the first one, who had a giant white diamond in the middle of her forehead. She was precocious, feisty and more confidant that any of her siblings. We bonded instantly. She stood out from the rest, and I wanted her. I was devastated that they were all spoken for. I tried not to get attached, but the damage was done in an instant.

After the modeling session was over, and I was getting dressed, my new artist friend said he wasn't satisfied with the sketches he had done. He'd like to schedule a second session where he could paint me in color instead of a pen and ink sketch. Same deal as before. A free lunch and puppy time. I could sense the professionalism beginning to deteriorate, but I was in love with the bejweled puppy, and I agreed to come back the next weekend so he could paint me.

At the end of the second modeling session, he mentioned he had to take a day trip to Los Angeles in the coming days. He had no one to watch the puppies. He'd be gone for at least half a day, and they couldn't be left alone for longer than a few hours. He asked if I would mind staying with them while he was away and that he'd be back as soon as he could. I couldn't say no, even though I had a cat of my own to care for.

I arrived the morning he was to leave, and he was grateful I was free to help him out. Six hours went by, then eight, coming up on ten. I had a cat that I needed to get home to feed, and he still wasn't back. I had been calling and texting him with no answer for hours. I was in love with this puppy, but I was also getting irritated that I was being taken advantage of.

My phone finally rang just before midnight. It was him profusely apologizing that his meeting had gone late. He said he felt terrible for holding me up all day, but he had some good news that I might be excited about. What could that possibly be? I was a more than a bit annoyed and couldn't imagine it was anything life altering. I was wrong.

He told me that someone had contacted him saying they were no longer able to take a puppy because they were planning to move, and dogs weren't allowed where they were relocating to. Nobody on the list had been over to choose which pup they wanted, so he offered me first pick of the littler, if I was able to to take one.

I wasn't positive, but I was pretty sure my landlord would allow me to have a small dog. I asked if he was serious, and he said if I had fifty dollars to cover the first round of vaccinations that I could take whichever puppy I wanted. Oh. I knew which one I wanted from the first day I met her. The leader of the pack, of course.

The pup with a giant diamond on her head, who's personality fit mine to a tee. Or at least the person who I was trying to become. The brave one. The fighter. The explorer. The one who git up each time she made a clumsy mistake and toppled over. The one who stood out like a black sheep against the others. The puppy who led the way for her siblings who came after her. The one I knew was meant for me. Little Miss Bijoux.

Bijoux is the word for jewels in french. I added the X on the end of her name just because I like the misfit letters of the alphabet. The letters that aren't used as often as the rest. The letters that demand your attention when you read them in a word. The strong letters.

She just turned six years old, and she is still the shining jewel of my life. I look to her every time I feel like my world is crumbling and remember how her bold personality at four weeks old inspired me to put in the work to become the person I am today.

I know I didn't rescue her from the pound, or anything noble like thousands of these submissions will probably recount. She rescued me. This little fluff ball with a giant diamond on her forehead took my life and put it on a different track. She stole my heart and healed my soul from the moment I laid eyes on her.

She's the reason I live and breathe as I write this. She is my reason to say yes to another day, no matter the adversity or challenges I have to face. They say a diamond is forever. I know I will likely outlive her, but she is the diamond in the rough that forever changed my life. She will always be my savior and her magnificence will never be forgotten.

My sweet little Bijoux, who rescued who? You did. You saved me, and I will always be there to save you as long as you walk this earth. My heart is forever yours.