worries

I woke up too early, worrying about my dogs. What if. What if my cold suddenly turned worse and I had to take a pause in caring for my two energetic pups? During the week, they'd spend the day at daycare. But during the weekend? The thought had been that I could put them in the kennel ("dog camp") if that happened, but the Camp I use tends to fill up early on the weekends. And would Henry get his meds? I better have them in a place where Ed could find them, in case he was called upon to help. But Ed has never walked a dog in his life. How could I possibly ask him to help with two barking dogs that require special oversight?

This is the stuff I hate to worry about in those hours just before dawn. I think about single mothers -- this worry is theirs always. What if I can't care for my child? Who will step in? Will I lose my job? Dogs are not children, and yet at night the distinction blurs. They are my responsibility. They have me. They have no one else.

Maybe it's the weather: it was a foggy night. When I took the dogs out (one at a time) yesterday, for their last potty run, a woman emerged in a back alley. She seemed ghostly in the misty air and maybe this is why Sadey, Sadey no less, went nuts barking and pulling. And I thought -- you mean to tell me I have two reactive dogs??? Sadey, "pure sweetness" herself was supposed to be the kind of dog that loved all humans. Last night, she was not loving the human across the street. I redirected and dragged her off toward a muddy vacant lot. It was not a good close to the evening.

 

This morning the fog was with us still. The dogs thought they were waking me, but as I noted above, I was wide awake already. I almost put them off: 6:10 is too early! But, we have daylight savings time coming up tomorrow and 7:10 would be just fine, so I let them do their licks and wags. We were friends again.

I glanced at my phone and the weather report. Light rain now, heavy rain in about a half hour. Better sprint to get them out there. First Henry...

Then Sadey, distracted once again. She is not yet confident about the routine of walking for potty breaks. A distraction means that she'll take even longer to focus. And by the time she does focus, the rain is coming down hard. 

But I notice something -- my cold is miraculously receding. I am quickly coming back to normal. I'm still dragging this morning, but that may be due to the early wake up and the worries that bother me only when I am in bed and the day has not yet begun. I suppose I am the person whose cup is always half empty at night and half full during the day. Same cup, same brain, different reading of what's ahead.

Breakfast -- a delight.

 

They rest, I read and when they're done with their morning naps, I take them to daycare.

 

I'm not going to tempt my good fortune: I'll take it easy today. Indeed, I doze off for a bit before even glancing at my to-do list. And then Ed comes over and my to-do list is pushed aside for tomorrow. Or, more likely, Monday.

 

I feel strong enough to do the pickup this afternoon.  Snowdrop, from school. I thought I was to take her straight to her Shakespeare play, but she assured me she was not needed today, so we came to Sally's House. 

I have said this so often, I feel like a repetitive ancient person, but here you go again: you worry about stuff that often does not come to pass (I was not so sick today that I could not care for the dogs). The real drama in your life is so often... unexpected!

I tell Snowdrop it's time to pick up the dogs and drop her off at home. But on the way to their neck of the woods, I get a call from my daughter. It appears that the girl is actually needed for tonight's performance after all. Gulp! The show starts in half an hour. The parents cannot help: one is out with a colleague, the other is bringing back the little guy to a home where Sparrow is entertaining his school friend. With a babysitter that should have left half an hour ago.

But what can I do? I cannot be late for the dogs. She'll have to be late for the play.

I speed to her house, she pick up her necessary play undergarments, we go get the dogs. I buckle them into the backseat. 

 

 

 

Dont worry -- I tell her. The highway traffic is light. You'll only be a few minutes late.

As usual, Henry is trying to be the navigator. But it's Sadey who is the real puller. She strains to position herself to the front as well. I'm glad her seat belt is shorter than his!

This is when the chew-proof, foolproof dog seat belt snaps. 

My dear Sadey has managed to pull so hard that the clip leaves the belt. She is free. And delighted. She throws herself into the front seat. And my lap.

Sadey!! This is not time to be a lapdog!!

Her body is on some mechanism that switches the driving mode to overdrive. Seats warm up. She managed to push those buttons as well. But more importantly, she is a large wedge between me and the steering wheel. 

Gaga! Stop the car! -- says my panicked granddaughter. I do slow down and move over to the shoulder, but we are on the highway and I am not about to stop now and tie Sadey down. I see that she has settled in my lap. I get off the highway at the next exit and keep going, locally, at 25 mph. More safe but more late. Well, safer. 

I drop off the girl and push Sadey to the passenger seat and make my way home.

The rest of the evening is spent researching more reliable car restraints. 

 

Oh, my beautiful pups, both with troubled pasts that haven't quite left them yet. The behavioral specialist asked me if I was having second thoughts about keeping two highly active, crazy dogs. I considered this for a second and then asked -- but if not me, then who? Neither dog is a good candidate for a busy household with tight time resources (and other resources). These two mutts need help. So far, I can manage them (this evening's drive notwithstanding!) and the hope is that with time we'll work through their issues and put them on a better path. 

At home, I reheat my veggie soup (Ed said earlier today that the house now smelled like veggie soup, which is a good thing: the smell of new house is nearly gone). The two mutts have learned that I eat my soup and salad on the couch and that this is my food, not theirs. They snuggle by my sides for a while and life is easy. For tonight, life is easy!

Can I leave you with a smile? Here's an upbeat photo sent to me by my younger daughter. Juniper has taken to dressing up in her Polish costume. She is absolutely adorable, looking down the stairs as mom comes home!

 

 

with so much love...