I'm not as forthcoming with the gratitude as I should be, so I'm going to document the moment.
Walking my dog is like walking. I thread the leash through my belt loop, hook it to her collar, and just walk. Sometimes I see people looking in awe because I'm not holding the leash or she's not even on one, but heeling anyway. Then I remind myself that it is an accomplishment- that it's not that common. It is not an exhausting, frustrating chore to walk my dog, which is probably why I'm such an advocate. Or maybe we have just practiced enough because I'm such an advocate. It is very important to me to be a good dog owner, and I am out with Riley every single day, practicing commands, giving her exercise and time to smell things, taking her on car rides to fun, interesting places, being extra careful in the heat or the cold. I put a lot of time in, and I often tell Riley how lucky she is, especially when I see or hear about a dog that's abused or ignored. I hug her and cry in her coat because she's so lucky.
But I am also lucky. In addition to being smart, loving, communicative, protective but also friendly, silly, well-behaved, and happy, she is also a dream to walk. I don't understand people that don't walk their dogs, but today I can understand their reluctance if they don't have a dog like mine. (That's all the tolerance you get. Now go walk your dogs.)
On to Part 2: children. You know I never wanted kids, but I put my whole heart into raising Ant. When I got pregnant, I was suddenly in love. I would have been a great parent to the kid who wasn't mine as well as the kid who was never to be, but neither of those was for the long term, and I don't get to know why. I'm hoping that I'll get another chance someday, because I think I'd be pretty good at it.
But for right now (as you pointed out to me, 10), I have the space, the freedom, and the quiet time to watch movies. I watch exactly what I feel like watching. I can stop it when I want to go to bed. I can watch it with subtitles, and nobody's annoyed. And that's just movies. I read, I sew, I do puzzles, I talk to myself, I eat bizarre meals, I clean when the urge strikes, I browse stores all Saturday afternoon, I take naps whenever I'm tired. I'm grieving the chaos and the responsibility of a house and a family, but I'm here in a quiet, beautiful place of solace and freedom.
Jody came over for dinner tonight. She brought her almost two-year-old son, her two dogs, and a pizza. I did a child proofing sweep before they showed up- ha. Brand new blinds they put in today, and he's pulling on them. I have two chairs and he climbed into the fabric covered one to eat pizza. There are pizza handprints all over the table, the doorknob, the ottoman, my book, the blinds, and the sliding glass door. There is a grease stain on the chair. Her dog, Lucy, despite having a recent encounter that ended similarly, tried interacting too closely with Solo, who popped her in the nose so deep that it took Jody several minutes and paper towels to stop the bleeding while I cleaned the blood out of the carpet and Jody's son happily explored my cabinets. I see now that those cupboard locks are not to keep darling baby from eating rat poison, but to keep him from putting his mouth all over your cookware. That was my determination, anyway, as I watched him drink out of an empty measuring cup. Imagine my confounded expression.
"Ready to walk?" I asked Jody.
See, that's the less romantic side of parenting. And it's not as if I don't understand that that's more often the reality than not- I got to experience some parental juggling, just not with a two-year-old. And letting a two-year-old run free seems to be more about exhaustion and surrender than an intentional violation of someone else's home. But I'll come back to that.
I offered to walk Snoopy, since I'd only be walking Riley the cloud dog. Snoopy is a herding dog, bred for long days of work. She is the best off-leash dog I have ever seen, but this dog cannot walk next to you- she must run circles around you. Leashes are not her thing. I have known these two dogs their whole lives, and as diligent a walker as Jody is, Snoopy is just an asshole to walk. All she does is pull.
I tried many things: using the Cesar loop, touching her side, making noises, short tugs on the leash, making her follow Riley, switching sides, making them walk together. Finally, I had Jody walk ahead and kept Snoopy at her heels. If I had to walk a dog like this every day, I would go insane. I would buy a bike to run her with, I would take her to off-leash parks daily, I would learn to roller blade- anything to drain that energy and then train her to heel.
It was exhausting and aggravating and I don't know how Jody does it every day. But we came back from that walk and I had to look to see if Riley was still there, as all my attention had been on Snoopy. She was right there, of course. I felt this surge of love for her.
"You are such a good girl," I told her.
Now, Snoopy loves me, and I love her. When we got back to my apartment, she sat next to me and cuddled me, leaned her head against me. I cuddled her back, kissed her head, and talked to her. There was such a difference between this dog and the one I just walked. What a love.
But let me walk you to the car.
This is not a complaint. I will clean up the pizza handprints. The blinds are intact. Walking Snoopy on a leash sucks, but that gave Jody a break, because Lucy is good on walks- so good that Jody was able to let her son hold the leash.
My (long-winded) point is that for one evening, my peaceful paradise was stirred. Feathers were ruffled a little, but it was only temporary, and up until now, I had no idea how much I was enjoying my peace. My friends like Jody: I envy their chaos, their companionships, the feeling of being needed; they envy my quiet, my peace, and my freedom. We can't trade for an equal balance, and maybe someday I'll look back at this time and feel wistful, but tonight- right now- I feel grateful for what I have.
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