when they said that having a dog would be a good precursor to when we decided to usher in some little-monkey babies of our own, (i say this because these phantom children will be short and hairy – it’s just the way their eastern-european biologies will work out), the boy and i rolled our eyes and smirked. the smirk that only those who have NO IDEA as to what they are doing can even try to pull off. we, of course like to think that we’re pretty with it, possibly a minute percentage of arrogance seeping into our confidence – we totally did the whole “yeah, yeah, we know we’re doing…” bit.
seven months in and we can safely say that this dog turned our lives upside-down; this boy turned us, inside out and round and round – to borrow a diana ross lyric.
we got up early, we picked up the surprises left on carpets and floors, we continued that venture out of doors, we wiped up pee and scrubbed the carpets. he gives us warning when he is about to vomit and we lovingly clean that up too. he has eaten sandals and dresses, and ingested countless receipts, magazines and courier notes. he has become george of our backyard jungle and we laugh ourselves silly when he does lunatic-laps and barks in a hole he dug that is filled with nothing but dirt.
we feed him better than we feed ourselves, nothing but organic and banish those grains – and if he looks at us with those sad little eyes and makes that high-pitched whine and bonks my knee with his nose, he’s telling me he wants something. he wants to play, he wants a cookie, he wants someone, please SOMEONE pay attention to me. when he sits on the arm of the sofa and watches the world go by, our boy is pleased as punch – and if he bays at passers-by on the sidewalk, we cannot help but laugh – but crouch down so the people outside can’t see us. sometimes when he’s very excited, he just can’t contain his happiness and he loses the contents of his bladder, just a little… even this has become endearing, if not a hindrance to our hardwood.
and now when i think about how they said a dog would be good practice for a child, i know they were right. because he is pure joy – he is nothing but a delight, even considering his 8% naughtiness, i love this furry, sad-eyed, scallopini-eared dog more than i ever thought possible – but, on the other side of joy is worry – this worry that you cannot express to him because he does not understand, like a baby who has yet learned how to speak. a worry about his well-being that he himself cannot understand. and i know that trying to anthropomorphise is unfair, because he will never understand my deep, deep concern, but if, just for once he could look at us and understand – we would tell him – “sweet, little boy, we will always come back to you. we will never leave you alone… please. please. please… don’t hurt yourself anymore…”
8.17.08 - findley sleeps...
