Miss you

I miss you Dunkin'. I miss the unconditional love. I miss the elation at watching you understand this world full and run mostly by humans. You were one of us. What gets me is that you should be here. They took you. They extinguished your life and I had to watch it all happen.

Grad school has a way of distracting me from the details for moments at a time. Regardless, I sit in my office and cry for you, and remembering the trauma and what they did to me, to my life, my future and the present.

I watched a great show Dogs Decoded on Nova http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/nature/dogs-decoded.html

Key take aways:
* Owning a dog extends your life
* Dog owner's chemical reaction is the same as a breast feeding mother to her newborn
* Dogs also experience the chemical connection with the owner
* Dog owners are less likely to have a heart attack

I told them on that day, minutes after you were taken. I told them "you killed me, you don't know what you've done, you killed ME!"

I've been a zombie since.


...A zombie with dry salt paths on my clothes and cheeks. I do my best to honor you and I know you want me to not cry. I am doing my best. I graduate in weeks with a GPA better than undergrad. 3.4... this was our time to move back home and take care of ourselves, by myself, relaying solely on myself. And now? Now I have to figure out the new plan and there are several. They are not as bright as they would be were you still here, lil daddy Dunkin'.

Rosamaria on Alex Jones YouTube site

Click here to listen to me on Alex's show yesterday. Please forward this link and let's show the powers that be that WE ARE NOT GOING TO ACCEPT THIS IN HUMANE TREATMENT OF DISABLED AMERICANS, AMERICANS, PETS, SERVICE ANIMALS on our tax funded roads.

Please send this link to your loved ones, your co-works and family as it is the TRUTH about the ACTIONS of which police officials choose to engage.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4M2luaVbtQ

How Dunkin' Died

Dunkin was chased to his death by the DPS. Department of Public SAFETY.

All they gave me was his BROKEN and TORN COLLAR. Just thinking about it... it just brings it all back. He was destroyed instantly.

The article I wrote on the left hand side tells all the grim details. SCROLL DOWN to see PHOTOS of my bruising and ... our last video on Earth.

The tears, after a year... they just flow. He was precious. I honor him daily living a life that informs all of JUSTICE and TRUTH.

Thank you all. Again, please join my "causes page" at http://www.facebook.com/JusticeForDunkin

How YOU can make a difference

Thank you all for the support. I have been struggling... as you see from my posts. I mostly suffer in silence regarding my most traumatic loss. Even the loss of certain motor skills, and being diagnosed with MS pale in comparison to losing my 8 year old unconditional love which Dunkin' granted me.

Please JOIN THE CAUSE at: www.facebook.com/justicefordunkin

Also, WATCH our last video together. LOOK at the photos I was CLEVER enough to take with time stamps on them, as I KNEW the department of public safety would bury the issue.

READ the left hand column which explains what happened.

I have since attained a lawyer and I forsee fees.

I am a graduate student at NYU and work full time trying to make ends meet while living in NYC.

All updates will be posted on Face Book and my personal notes are here.

IT is ON

Alex Jones will put Justice For Dunkin' links on his site, viewed by MILLIONS of humans world wide.

I am grateful I am closer to Justice and to sharing my experience with self healing when negative forces strip you of your humanity.

www.facebook.com/justicefordunkin Visit, Add, Forward to friends, for Dunkin', for your human rights and your beloved service animal rights.

LIVE on the air, GLOBALLY

I am ABOUT to go LIVE on Alex Jones' LIVE radio broadcast. LISTEN NOW. I will be speaking about my encounter with a POLICE STATE which violated my civil liberties on
July 4th 2009 in the state of Arizona. After Steve Watson is done, it will be my turn. Hope you can join me.

http://www.infowars.com/listen.html

Thoughts are faster than light

Last night, I cried hard. I sat on my bed and I tried to not let it erupt, and like the volcanoes of ages, I exploded my sorrow onto my cheeks and chin, my new blue sheets, my frown burrowing in itself. Dunkin' is alive in my mind, his face, his ki8ses, his care and presence. Even now, typing this, my eyes sting, they water, they release this longing.

Some people do not know longing. They cannot concieve what this is. I feel those humans are truly lucky. Perhaps they cannot love like most human do, but, they also will never know what this pain feels like.

Is it worth the cost?

The opportunity to have felt Dunkin's love is worth everything to me only because I know what it meant to me. If I had a choice to not understand love and hence never experience pain, I guess I would be super human, or a realized buddhist.

I think it's all a bunch of good philosphizing. My truth are my tears, my buzzing left body, my salty trails.

I have pushed on, and I have my art in Manhattan being exhibited as we speak. Yes, there is a pet in the painting. No, it is not Dunkin. Not this time. Out of 300 artists who were chose, only 7 were chosed to be exhibited in a NoHo Starbucks. Mine is one of the 7.

Starbucks on Boradway at Bond. Bond... my favorited street in Manhattan. Dunkin' and I used to walk it all the time, just to see the art store. He once shopped on his own there. Oh, my little angel, I would have brought you to the starbucks for a pic under my painting, Dunkin. I would have brought you to the reception as well. I would have... if you were here.

sorrow

My grandmother recently passed. I'm okay with it. She lived a long life. Yes, it was sudden and she was very healthy and I am okay with it. I have cried some.

Dunkin', on the other hand... I cry still.

Death, when it comes by the hands of human being, so to speak... that death, I do not understand. That death is cruel and senseless. That is injustice. We are here to live a just life, a peaceful life on this planet, at much as we can anyway.

My peace was shaken and most would have been crushed. I am not most. Crushed? Pulverized, more the like. Luckily I am a creator. I make art from sand, from color, from thought. Dunkin'... you are my finest work yet and I honor your memory by being peaceful, aware, helpful and focused on myself, my career, and what I can offer the world that you taught me, my zen puppy.

My eyes tear always. It is my signature after your thought enters my mind. My longing for you shows in my tear and in my smile. I love you Dunkin' dog. We saw Frankie yesterday and she looks great. She has a new brother names Polo and you would have loved him. He looks like a large Lucas. The weather was sunning weather for you this easter weekend. I thought of you at the dog run, how you loved laying in the sun. Faye will be here in May and I am sure she will remember walking you all over the city and speaking to you in only Dutch. Leker Eten? lol... I love you, Dunkin'.

March

My left arm and hand buzzes. The irght hand and fingers get cold and warm with no notice. I sometimes cannot even find the time to react to the changes in my skin temperature as it happens so quickly. Sometimes is stays for a few minutes, other times, seconds, and other times, hours. I have no fear of these symptoms, I just am mindful of them.

My skin hurts on my hands. A patch of skin on my right thigh was burning last night, and all evening. It's annoying wearing pants, or anything that touches that part of my leg but what can you do? I just ignore it as much as possible.

I still cry for Dunkin. I still can't believe this is my reality. I still cannot stop feeling scared and traumatized by those inhumane men that day. I find it hard to understand time still..or maybe, I finally understand it. It feels like 5 minutes ago that Dunkin was alive, it feels like I just had his large paws in my hands or on my shoulders. 5 minutes ago he was here, 5 minutes ago people could have used cognitive thinking skills, 5 minutes ago Dunkin could have been safely removed from a vehicle as he was a service animal. 5 minutes... so far away. Never to return.

2010 still gray

Nice peaceful new year for me. Spent quietly, been with myself for weeks, reflecting. I realize what I need and want, what I hope to accomplish on earth etc. I truly want people to respect animals from the early stages of their development. This is very important to me. This is more important to me ultimately than my own personal happiness in the traditional sense.

My left hand and arm are still buzzing constantly. When I dance especially. When I punch, When I move my head pretty much...as I am typing, when I look at the keyboard... BUZZZZZZ all over my left arm and hand and my body as well.

I cried a few hours ago. Just had this thought about my boy. Dunk's face. His presence. It was real. I had it. He was my life. He was here. He brought me unconditional love. I lived off of his love for years, all of my family and friends know what he means to me. I realize, as months pass and my longing for him remains unfettered, that the pain of a great loss never goes away...you just learn to live with it. Kind of like Multiple Sclerosis and this buzzing which is due to the emotional stress of having to watch soulless humans kill my service animal before my eyes while I am handcuffed in the middle of the damn desert in a heat box surrounded by GLASS no less with no air to breath. Yeah, it's something like that.

Ouch.

I feel likeI feel like I'm living multiple lives and none are my own.

Now I am in this body that buzzes and tingles and snaps in shock when I move my head. When you hit your elbow and it makes that annoying and painful sting in the funny bone, it goes away eventually. This is what my whole body feels like, especially my left side of my body. If I move my head at a normal rate, my body feels like it was just zapped with electricity from a foreign body and yet, it is all inside of my own body. My hand gets the most of that shock. Dunkin' used to lick it well, and the love involved healed me.

Normally I snap out of it and get happy. Missing Dunkin' is not happiness. I did a lot of missing him and crying this week. I just want my balance back. Physically, I want to walk normally and not feel like I'm falling to the right, emotionally, I just want my heart and soul to heal from the shock that is still inside of me.

Coat me

I am Living in the Present State of Numbness.

Dunkin' Tears

Thanksgiving is around the corner and Dunkin' would always be the 1st to eat. I always made him his plate of thanksgiving food, with stuffing, gravy and all the trimmings. How he would eat until he was the size of the bird itself, then he would sleep the rest of the day. He deserved my love for many years. I deserved his. I am thankful every moment I breath that the Dunk was in my life and that he will always be part of me.

I also thank karma for in knowing that karma exists, I also know the people who extinguished Dunkin's light are already paying for their deeds. It is not even in my hands. I can only control my state and I do the best I can. I miss you dear boy. Momma misses you at night, and I know you know it. How I miss those long dog legs and that sound you made in gratitude of hugs and smiles. Wish I had you now to help out with my left hand again. It's not looking too happy and it's feeling a bit blue, tingly, and numb sometimes. I fight it, Dunkin'. I do what I know how to and it's just a lot more difficult without you near.

Too Many Tears Have Had To Fall

Phoenix's song "If I Ever Feel Better" pretty much sums me up.



I'm at the point of thinking... IF I ever feel better. I do sometimes. Sometimes.


My hands are lovely, they brush my hair and my teeth, they can thread a needle, they elegantly lift items and wash dishes, they type and allow me to express myself. My hands are milky peach and scarred in my right ring finger, there is a ring on my left middle finger, I adorn my wrist with a Frida Kalho bracelet and I have other scars from art projects, one when I was in the 4th grade carving a stamp, another when I was doing a mural in Arizona, both are on my thumbs. My veins show through my translucent skin and there is some metal inside one of my fingers to it would mend correctly at one point. And now, these lovely hands are weak.

All I can do is rub them, flex them, message them and start feeling better. I wish I could dip them in purple paint and watch it drip down to my elbows. My hands want to be playdough, a bright blue or lively green. They want to be lace, my petite hands, covered in lace and sipping on tea in the middle of Deadwood, South Dakota. My hands want to feel the buttery softness of a child's skin, the warmth of a man's elegant hand on mine, the silky trusses of my hair, the bark of a tree. I am thankful for my hands and thankful that Dunkin' used to know when I needed them licked. Dunkin' used to know. Dunkin' would lick the forhand, exactly where it was weak, or numb. He brought me such hope. They killed my hope in Arizona. No wonder my hands are weak. No wonder my spirit is wounded. No wonder I hope to feel better and be reminded to so spend some good time with you.

There are things in my life I can't control, I feel the chaos around me, a thing I dont try to deny, I better learn to accept that, there's a part of my life that will go away.- Phoenix

Happy Birthday, Dunkin'

Today would be your 8th birthday, love. How we celebrated for 7 years and had so many parties and cherished times. I remember your face glow with the candle on a cupcake in front of your brown face. I'm yearning for your love again, your innocence and protection. You were so happy with me. You literally smiled at times, so many times. I wish I would have powers to bring you back, I would use them. What's the point in even saying that, Dunkin'. Oh Dunkin', my Dunkin' dog. Some people don't get it, and some others really do. Either way, you are 8 now, somewhere, in my world, I will sing for you today. Happy birthday to you dear Dunkin'. My little man, little lovely life that touched me with love just at the sight of you. My organs want to jump out of my body sometimes in such despair. My stomach, the heart organ, they hurt when I walk around or sit and think about how we were torn apart. The tears that fall heavily onto my lap splatter like stars because they are SO heavy. Why even write when a picture is worth more.

Happy Birthday my little love. I miss you and granny and gramps and Rudy love and miss you too. I can only wish to feel you again, somewhere.

Everything for a reason

I am having a difficult time with time. Everyone says that time heals all wounds. Lies. Time is nothing more than a unit of measurement from event "a" to event "b". Dunkin' would be 8 in a couple of days and the time (whether it is a day, an hour, or one month) that has past since his death has done nothing to sooth me. I do not admit this to several people and the truth is, I cry daily and nightly. I was told recently that my eyes betray my emotions. He said that even when I am happy, my eyes always look sad. Seems to me like the windows to my soul are quite transparent.

I met someone yesterday that I knew I would meet one day. I met the man who designed the Macy's Balloons. I always pictured a Dunkin' the Service Dog Macy's Day balloon and I said to him, "It's great to finally meet you. You will design the Dunkin' balloon someday." We smiled and will jam again next week. Dunkin' would have loved last night. The boy adored live music and a bohemian lifestyle... anything that made his momma happy and calm.

When I cry I do it to myself. I can stop it, if anyone can. It's mighty hard to do. I'm in this alone and alone is new to me. Or, rather... without Dunkin'... that's what is new to me. I am doing my best and that's about all I can do.

October

Dunkin' should have been 8 years old this month on the 23rd. I already am at a loss for how I feel regarding his birthday. I always had a party for him, I have video of them as well. If I had a computer at home and some internet access I would post those memories. Last year it was somber as I was in a nasty relationship. The year before it was so much fun. Either way, he had 7 great birthdays...almost 8.

Last year... last year... I had him. Last year I entered him in the Dog Day Masquarade contest in Times Square. He was Young Dunkenstein. He was so adored, so loved by all who saw him. The Broadway actor who played Young Frankenstein took a particular liking to Dunkin'. And Dunkin', being the Zen puppy that he is, reveled in the love. I loved teaching him that he should enjoy hugs and love from good people. He always looked at me for approval and he always got it. He never needed it from me but he just always looked at me. He was always aware of me... where I was, was I safe, was I sad... nobody has cared for me with such intent other than my own mother.

I miss you Dunkin' dog. I hate saying that I miss you because I should not have to. I love you, Dunkin'.

Dunkin' Dream

Dunkin' was in my dream briefly last night. I was unaware of him in the dream. I expected him to be there, part of my daily life as he once was for almost 8 years. I awoke satisfied, just wishing that I could have noticed him running circles happily in my dream. I should have picked him up and loved him. Instead, a large black fluffy cat with white paws made a bed of my face. The cat rubbed its face and white muzzle all over my mouth and cheeks repeatedly. I fell asleep in my dream to this large cat loving me in its cat way. In real life I would have sneezed it off of me as I am allergic to cats. Either way, I recall feeling so much affection. Just what I needed to generate in my own brain I suppose. I miss Dunkin's affection. I miss showing him mine. This is why all of my friends are getting longer hugs and why I am like a lost child looking for who I can hug next.

Buddhist path

In the darkness of grieving a traumatic loss I am fortunate to have made several friends here and in other states/ countries. these friends are what help me dry my tears and keep my chin up. Sometimes all I need is a hug, just some body to hold me. It's a new thing, my hugging has changed somewhat. I really like to hug back even more than I used to. It's like I need it all over my skin and my center.

I miss the daddy of course... nightly, that has not changed. I also miss my sense of Independence with him. Dunkin' was bigger than I think he ever knew. My hands have not tingled this week, hurrah. I am rubbing them a lot, the muscles feel a bit tight. I do enjoy when someone rubs my hands and arms just right.

Dunkin' gave me my daily hug dose.. Without him, I am going through withdrawal and depression...with grace, I must add. The house of cards was destroyed and now I have to pick up the deck and make sense of it all again. Except key cards are always gone with Dunkin' actually really gone from my life. In the aftermath, what matters are hugs from good people, honesty with myself, and the gentle kindness that I am receiving from friends new and old and for that, I am grateful.

Time

They say time heals all wounds. Well, so far, the pain has not even subsided. I am not crying all day at my desk and that is only because I am forcing myself not to. I was talking to someone at lunch today, a compassionate person. It was nice to know that others feel compassion for all living things as I do. I knew it would come up, Dunkin's story and my story as I watched a squirrel accost a woman for her purse full of peanuts. What did I expect, this is Manhattan.

I cried in front of a stranger for lunch. I did it this weekend at the basenji meet up as well. Toy poodles jumped on me as if I had some secret poodle treat. They hung around me and my lap as I told my story to 2 women, dog owners. They both had tears in their eyes. It pains me to see people react that way and then I remember, wait... this happened to me.

As I am sitting on the bench at lunch and I feel the sting. My chest and abdomen sting, like an open wound with alcohol being poured into it at a steady rate. The pain I feel for Dunkin' not being in my life due to the horrific actions of S.D Soto and his fellow DPS officers astounds me. I feel like the fabric of my soul is torn and tender, exposed to the moment, to the pain that is my loss of my dearest best friend on Earth. It feels as if someone is pouring on the pain, the sting sets in my chest and burns from a place that is deeper than any heartburn anyone has endured. This reaches my spirit and twists it in its most vulnerable stage. I hope I can get over this pain... until now, time has done nothing for me.