Excellent Company-Lifework/Petwork

This afternoon Bean rested on my chest. My nose kept grazing against his huge ears. He was rescued 5 months ago from a shelter. He is now in a peaceful living room, not a cage.  Instead of closing a magazine or being in a hospital bed I am dozing off with this gentle creature on top of me. This is as much his recovery as it is mine. Of course, I want instantaneous and lifelong results from this therapy session. Bean isn’t that greedy.-Journal entry from July.

Dogs are excellent company.

I talk to them. “What is it?” I ask when they stare up at me. Little Sophie, the Dachshund , always brightens up whenever she hears me say “cuddles” at a high pitch. Before preparing dinner  I ask “who’s the chef’s helper?” They run into the kitchen with me, eager to catch any bits of food that fall on the floor

“Is it time for me to stop work?” This question is in response to their leaving a toy at my feet or pawing my arm.

When I’m sad or frustrated I hold them.

I read out loud to them at night.

They help me weigh my options when I’m trying to make a decision. “I don’t know what you’re saying but I’ll stay with you as you ponder this.” River, the cockapoo, says this with her big, dark eyes.

I associate TV shows and movies with these creatures.

Zozo, the erratic Chihuahua, loves nothing more than streaming the adventures of Hap and Leonard on Netflix. I can’t watch Meet Me in St. Louis without thinking about Simon, the Cavalier King settling his soft body next to mine on the couch.

I have no problem with dogs on my bed, my couch and even my toilet.

What will I do without them? I ask myself this before every dog leaves. I bond with these animals. I create rituals around my routine and theirs. They become mine and when the moment comes to give them back I have to face the sad reality that they belong to someone else. The routines I’ve come to count on are temporary.

But there is an excellent chance that this dog will return. And another dog will usually arrive within days if not hours of this dog’s departure. It’s also important to remember that this gentle creature is going back to a loving family, not a shelter.

Giving them back used to be absolute agony. I spent an entire January afternoon sobbing with Chaucer, a Corgi/Dachshund mix, on my lap. My baby Chaucer. His mother needed me to keep him longer and I couldn’t because of a scheduling conflict. Chaucer’s anticipated departure coincided with the death of a dear friend and neighbor.  My loved ones questioned whether or not I had the emotional stamina to manage this petwork.

For me, separation has always shared the same psychological space with abandonment. Part of my lifework is dismantling these unhelpful partnerships. In spite of very strong glue is I am slowly breaking apart the link between separation and severance.

I will never be indifferent to it when a dog leaves. They just mean too much to me. But being able to recover quickly from a departure is a critical component to my petwork and lifework.