strengths

Normally I am not known to be good at waiting. "Sit on it," "mull things over," "wait until they get back to you" -- these approaches make my skin crawl. I move quickly through space, and move quickly to weigh pros and cons, and move quickly to grab a good position in line. I can't wait for a wait to be over. My kids tease me that I do not even like to wait at stop lights. When I used to walk to work, I'd run to make the light. That, rather than waiting for it to go through its cycle. 

And yet, waiting to see what falls into place for Sadey isn't especially hard. Maybe it's because I love our time together as the day begins and ends. Or because I don't have a weekend with her before me (I'm leaving tomorrow). I'm not stressed about exercising her now that the dog park option is closed to us. Too, the weather is improving by the day, so morning walks, though longer than I would like, are rather pleasant. I makes sure to cross the street and keep people at a distance. So long as no one comes near us (so, no walks on popular paths, or on the bike trail, and not during the time kids walk to school here), we manage.

But is this really what caring for a pup should be about? Managing? Being grateful that a weekend isn't in the cards this week, so that I dont have to be anxious about spending more time outside with her? In terms of her well being a wait is not good. She needs to get better before she gets worse. That was the hard lesson I learned from Henry. But, we have no say in the matter. We wait.

Breakfast. Delightful.

Couch time -- so good!

And then she and I are off to doggie daycare. 

Again I talk to the director there. She has been working with dogs -- training, schooling, directing -- for nearly 30 years and she has quite the interesting reflections on how the dog-to-people world has changed, about the scams out there (including with some rescue organizations!), about how our needs for dog companionship have evolved. I told her about an article I read yesterday in the New Yorker -- it's about the proliferation of doodles out there (by John Seabrook, if you're interested in looking it up), but the author also dives deeply into these very issues of dog ownership in general and how our shifting needs and values translate into the creation of this kind of a dog -- not belonging to any one breed, but a mix of those that help us introduce these pups to our homes as full-fledged family members (much to the chagrin of breeders of registered breeds who feel that their world has been upended, and that of the rescue organizations who believe no dog should be purchased, though considering my adoption fee for Sadey, I find that to be a curious position). There is a strong feeling among the professional dog care community that there is something fishy going on in Texas with all the rescues shipped all over the country: it's as if it's a thriving, profit making industry, producing pups that ostensibly are abandoned, but not really. For every good and noble actor out there, you will always find a shady character looking to make a buck. And judging by the swelling number of Houston dogs being distributed but really sold all over the country, suspicions abound.

 

I come home knowing full well that I have to take at least preliminary steps to get myself ready for travel, and yet I remain pokey. I have had zero time to process everything that has happened in the last few months. Or at least it feels that way. I need a moment to just chill. 

 

And then it's time to pick up the kids. Our routine is different today: I get Sparrow, then Snowdrop, we go to Hubbard's Diner. Pick anything. He chooses French Silk pie, she orders her favorite -- french fries.

And then to their home. I have to help Snowdrop pack. Left to her own devices, who knows what would end up in her suitcase. As it is, it's very much a hit and miss game. This girl's thoughts are so often up in the clouds. Bringing her down to earth is the work of an adult who understands dreamy kids who forget to check their backpacks for months on end.

 

I pick up Sadey. The tired girl. With lots of adult people talking about her. At some point you have to stop talking though, no? I would have stopped days ago, but that's just me. We're all different. Strengths and weaknesses. It may seem obvious to me. It may seem less obvious to the next person.

In the meantime, here's my happy girl, always deeply submerged in pillows! 

 

 

 

with so much love...