I spent my afternoon having a needle jabbed repeatedly into my calf. You know, as one does. I practiced my yoga breathing as well as I could. I listened to music. I screwed around on Facebook. I read news headlines, and thought about what my new life in Canada will be like if Trump gets elected. I thought about my Giddy. I tried not to get lost in the physical discomfort, because it's easy to do that. At times I thought, "Have I died? Walk towards the light, Claudia!" Finally, three hours later, I had what I wanted.
The tattoo honors three things that are important to me: my love for my Giddy, my love of dogs in general, and my 15 years of rescue work. The outline is Gideon's head - the artist split it down the middle and then duplicated it for symmetry.
Anyway, here 'tis. The colors are a bit off because my, um, blood is mixed in. But once my leg heals, the colors will be fine. I haven't decided if I want her to fill in the open spaces or just leave them. We decided to leave them for now.