|Watching me watching her|
Calabar's mouth is still a work in progress. The first time we got his teeth done, Leslie said, "If he's ever had his teeth done, I can't tell." That was many years and many floatings ago and we are finally in maintenance mode with him. No ulcers on his cheeks this time, no nasty hook on his back tooth. He is, however, certain that while he is weakened by whatever we've injected into him, SOMETHING will happen. And it is likely to be very, very bad. It is no matter that nothing really bad has actually ever happened to him while in our care. Lena has room to worry, having had Leslie's arm up her rear once and a tube down her nose shortly thereafter. Calabar has had no such experiences and yet his defensiveness persists.
Lena has a mouth as good as her big, thick-walled hooves. She had some hooks today, but she had gone longer between dentist appointments while we did a little in-between work to clean up Calabar's mouth. Leslie was still in and out in maybe 30 minutes. Tops. She was well-drugged, yes, but she still approaches things with a confidence that it will all turn out okay. It probably means she has had many less reasons to doubt her humans than Calabar does, though we have made many (very) long strides in our journey together.
Calabar goes under but is never quite relaxed, still holding his jaw tight and biting the floats Leslie uses at the end to do the final clean up, pushing his tongue into her way. Lena, on the other hand, descends into her happy place and lets Leslie get in and work, no fuss, no argument.
They have had different paths to our family and it shows. I love them both for who they are, as different as they are.
I love Calabar for the many things he has taught me and the many things we have yet to learn.
And I love Lena for her open honesty and trust, as reflected in her lovely and beautiful face.
|The lovely Lena Rey|