My Footsteps are Dogged

Almost one year ago, we got a dog. We got a dog because...well, honestly, it wasn't because Alex begged for one. He started begging for a dog when he was three, but he's been begging to dig a large hole in the yard for even longer than that and I've managed to resist. It wasn't because Tom wanted a dog. He didn't. He tactfully abstained from voting on the dog because everyone else was voting "for" and it seemed mean to vote against. It wasn't because of any of the other kids either--Zach and Tim tolerate the dog, Nigel thinks he is a dog.

No, the dog...the dog is mine. I think I wanted a dog because of Madeline L'Engle's "Meet the Austins" and Shiela Hocken's "Emma and I." Big, mellow, protective, loving, wise dogs inhabit those classic books. Once you actually have a dog, if you go back and read the books again, you will notice that Emma and Mr. Rochester save lives and act brilliantly but also sneak food, chew up important things, have to go to the vet, get muddy paws, growl at cats and other neighborhood dogs, and so on. Dog people just assume that this behavior comes with the dog. Non-dog people are shocked.

Non-dog people are surprised to discover that dogs eat toys. Last month unvarnished blocks were the flavor of the month. I think P-boy destroyed about 100. It was a large though cheap set--probably just $10 for all the blocks--and rarely played with. No tears were shed by kids. This month it's plastic dinosaurs. True, no one ever plays with the dinosaurs either, but the dinosaur bin is regularly taken out and dumped on the floor. I have a certain affection for them because I've been putting them away since Zach was a baby. They were a hand-me-down from a friend whose son had grown out of his dinosaur craze. They've been great--big, easily identified, fast to clean up. About half the population has disappeared this weekend alone, and losses are mounting. At this pace they'll be extinct by about Wednesday.

Why is he eating dinosaurs? I don't know!! Why is he in his eighth month of allergic reactions to something? I don't know that either! The vet STILL thinks it's food related, and no, the duck and potato dog food has NOT solved the problem. Next he gets to try kangaroo meat. No, I'm not kidding. I guess kangaroos are more a pest than an exotic and endangered species, but it still seems wrong to feed kangaroos to a regular house pet.

And ARRRRGH!!! The mud puddle problem!!! The large hole Porter dug in the yard is now full of rain water and every time he runs out, he heads straight for it and jumps in. Full immersion. After a week or so of yelling at him every time he left the house I had made him completely neurotic about relieving himself without ending the mud puddle behavior. Now every time I open the door for him, we spend a few seconds eyeing each other warily and half the time he'll walk to the end of the deck, look longingly into the yard, and come back without doing his thing, only to beg to be let out a few seconds later.

Yesterday, something amazing happened though. We sat down to dinner and Porter was walking around moodily waiting for someone to notice that he hadn't been fed, when suddenly, without warning or reminder, Alex jumped up, grabbed the dog dish, and filled it up! YES!!! I'm not kidding!!! We got the dog because I wanted to become the Austins. Is it working? We're becoming less materialistic because Porter is eating all the kids's toys and consuming a large portion of our disposable income in the form of kangaroo meat dog food. We're becoming fitter because we have no choice other than to walk the dog. The boys have learned to jump in and do a dirty task by scooping significant quantities of poop. And now...could it be...Alex is learning responsibility for a living being by remembering to feed the hungry dog?

Isn't that the way life is! One year ago when I baked a pan full of bone shaped pretzels and invited our friends over for the adoption ceremony, these were exactly the results I was picturing, just via a very different path. How very many times I have tasted this same experience in slightly different flavors--I need to be more careful what I ask for, because I keep on getting it.

Thoughts from the Bank

December came and went suddenly. Tom says it was his most peaceful Christmas ever. I don't remember any of the holiday season. The first part of December, when I usually ease into the season, listen to Christmas music, go to rehearsals and soak up the Christmas spirit, was absorbed by saying goodbye to Grandma. While I was gone to Pullman the first time, Tom knocked a picture off the wall, one that had a big collection of photos in it. One of them was my favorite picture of Grandma--a picture I took at Stu's wedding. I'm still waiting to replace the frame, so I took the picture out and stuck it on my fridge, just at eye level. So often during this crazy season as I've been in the kitchen cooking or cleaning, I've whipped around to get something out of the fridge and found her just behind me, smiling and watching me. A few times it's made me cry. Once it made me apologize and scrape out some eggs with my finger. Sometimes I talk to her. Mostly I just feel the warmth of her presence and her watchful, opinionated, loving eye watching over everything I do.

I promised her in the hospital that I was going to make some changes, and I have. I came home and told Tom to hire a paralegal. I'd been sliding into the paralegal job, enjoying working for him, and gradually letting Nigel spend more time with babysitters. We were considering a lovely Montessori school for Nigel three mornings a week. Tom's doing well, but I was feeling pressure to earn more, pay debt back faster, and I do enjoy working with Tom. Isn't it strange how you can suddenly be jolted out of the flow of your life and find yourself sitting off at the side watching the river flow on? Just a moment ago, you were being swept along with the current, you were feeling the urgency of the next boulder, the waterfall coming up, swimming hard, positioning yourself, meeting the crises just barely in time. Then, it's only been a moment, but everything's changed. You're sitting on the bank and none of it matters at all. That's how I still feel right now. Who cares where we live, where we vacation, what we drive? I want to spend my time ONLY on the things that seem important from the bank.