when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
It's been eight weeks since Kramer came to live with us. It's been eight weeks since I've had one continuous thought; hey, that's a familiar experience. . . when did I feel like this before? What was I thinking? I thought I had empty nest syndrome.That must be what it is when you find tears in your eyes every time some acquaintance asks you how your sons are doing, even though the answer is "fantastic." I still cry. I think about all those times I was impatient for them to grow up, when I was tired, when I was afraid, when I was lonely. Empty nest, I realized early on, wasn't about feeling lonely, but about regret. Regret with a capital R. Regret that I didn't cherish every fleeting second that went as they were growing up. Somewhere over the past four years, I got the idea that a little companion dog would be a cure for this deep feeling of loss. I kept seeing older women running around town with little dogs tucked into their arms and I didn't think they were nauseating as I did a few years ago. I empathised. They had found a cure for their empty nest syndrome. It seemed logical, a puppy is warm and cute and snugly and small, why not?
Tate's birthday, two months ago, I bought him a puppy.
Yes, I bought him for Tate, he attached himself to me immediately, I had nothing to do with it, I swear. It wasn't the fact that I had little doggie treats in my coat pocket when I went to pick him up at the airport. It wasn't that I talked Tate into driving to the airport so I could hold the puppy all the way home in my arms. No, not that. It wasn't the fact that I took him everywhere I went for the first 3 weeks because I didn't know what else to do with him.
Whatever it was, it got old really fast.
"Stop it" is about the only thing I say anymore. He follows me everywhere, always under my feet. He jumps on me when his feet are dirty. He tries to get the cat to play with him and it's really loud and chaotic when he does this. He won't go out into the grass and play unless I am standing there, even when it is twenty degrees outside. When I make the bed, he jumps in it, if I try to think one thought, he commandeers it. When I go to the bathroom he follows me and if I lock him out he stands at the door and cries!!!!!!
I AM ABSOLUTELY CURED! EMPTY NEST SYNDROME OVER. I remember, I remember, I remember.