It was the summer of 2004 when I really learned how to love and hate.
After Malcolm's leg was dissected and Anna left us, I had to find a new place to live. I didn't have any friends or family in Boston at the time as we were only there less than six months when I got the diagnosis. It's not easy to find a place to live in the Boston area with two big dogs.
I was all alone.
Ultimately, I met a kind fellow, Ron, who had a spare room in Somerville Ma, in a beautiful and historic area but it was on the second floor, atop a spiral winding staircase. I was in a bit of pinch and we moved in but on our first day there, Malcolm, three legged now, down and outright refused to walk down the stairs. They were too steep and too winding.
I remember our first day there I couldn't get him to walk down the stairs to go outside. He wouldn't budge.
I cried for the first time. I failed him. I failed myself. Things didn't work out in Boston like I planned and Malcolm was suffering as a result.
My tears lasted only for a moment and then I figured out a solution. Malcolm was afraid of falling so I put myself in front of him, kneeling down before him. Chest against chest, we made it down the staircase. We did that every day for the year we lived in Somerville.
Too often we think of love and hate as finite points but in reality, they're just degrees of beauty.