Category: Uncategorized

Leashes sticky with sap from discarded Christmas trees.  My first steps of 2019 are in dog poo. So much for a rejuvenating new year’s morning walk.

Harley, a Havanese mix, misses Daisy, his Connecticut canine companion.  The two Sophies also staying with me are not great company for him.  Sophie the Pomeranian is too mature to play.  Sophie the Dachshund doesn’t really know how to play.

Harley is lonely. I am lonely.  We all miss our families.

Two days ago Harley and I were in the country. Harley had a yard and a big house to explore. We were all safe. We left because of my work. Here my old life and my new life meet.

This isn’t my first three dog day.  If I could manage something once I could manage it again right? Except nothing feels right. I’m constantly cleaning, feeding or walking my three companions. Why can’t we all settle in and watch a good movie? Jesus the Dachshund won’t stop barking.

And I am lonely for my family. I am lonely for the New Year’s Eve dinner we have with friends every year. I am lonely for the bond Harley, Daisy and I forged in Connecticut. Why can’t this be replicated between the four of us?

I share a bottle of champagne with Sophie P’s mom later on in the day. Sophie D in another room will not stop barking.

It’s a Sunday disguised as a Tuesday.

To my loved ones, this is a sign that three is too many and that this job may be too much. Well, New Year’s Day did teach me something.

During some boarding sessions, you will wish you were having New Year’s brunch with friends and your clients will wish they were snuggled up against their mommies and daddies. The dogs and I cannot always successfully shield each other.

It is a relief to be back in my routine safe from that holiday alienation. Those holiday bookings could help me break even in January.

As I write this Sophie D is back in my living room. She isn’t barking as much.

Friday Night Lights was my tv salvation for a long time. One of the best moments from this series was when Eric Taylor, the best coach ever, wrote “State” on a whiteboard in the locker room. His players were silenced by this gesture. They were better than they had been before coach Taylor arrived but they were nowhere near the state champion level.

Funneling my 2019 ambitions into one word I write a monetary figure on a whiteboard. This is just over what I made in take-home pay from my old job.

Many aspirational streams merge into this figure. But for right now these numbers have to stand in black ink against a whiteboard. My mind always whirling with tasks, hopes, and doubts needs to be hushed like Coach Taylor’s players.

Happy New Year!

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.