I am of the opinion that Son One and his family absolutely did not need to "rescue" a mixed breed (Blue Heeler/Lab) puppy from her apartment-dwelling family who is moving and could not take the pup along, but my teenaged granddaughter pleaded the case convincingly enough to her parents who were ambivalent, but ultimately willing. Had anyone asked me, I'd have pointed out all of the very logical reasons this would not be a good idea. They did not ask me.
I went this morning to meet this new member of their family. Yes, Sammy is very, very cute; very, very sweet. She is also only 12 weeks old, already big (!), and only partially housebroken. She also seems to be sadly under-socialized to new people, although her best friend at her former home was a cat, so I believe she is redeemable given her good taste in choosing friends. (She was less enamored by the older dog in the family, so again, I am pleased to report she is a "cat" dog, not a "dog" dog. We have that in common.)
I rang the doorbell, but heard no bark. Odd. I was let in and saw her at the top of the stairs near my granddaughter's bedroom where she stood peering anxiously down at me. I called to her and she turned away to find my granddaughter -- her "safe place" so far, I guess. I had, as all grandmas do, brought treats, but this didn't really entice her either until my younger granddaughter coaxed her down the stairs with treats in her hand, but still Sammy wanted nothing to do with me.
I took a less forward tack and ignored her. I sat on a dining room chair and pretended she didn't exist while I chatted with the humans. She eventually made her way to me, giving me a bit of a sniff. I reached down and barely touched her head, barely stroked her neck and back. She then sat quietly beside my chair. After a bit she decided to lie down and when I reached to pet her again, she rolled over so I could rub her tummy. Mission accomplished. I think. This act of subservience was engendered by trust, I hope, and not fear.
The family has her registered for Basic Puppy Training and everyone is hoping for a happy, well-adjusted, well-trained dog as her lessons in socialization proceed. I hope so too. Their previous dog was a Covid Puppy and no training was available during the lockdown. He was a sweet tempered, but a very active, rather fearful/neurotic dog until his untimely demise a couple of years ago. He loved his family though and was a huge fan of showing unbridled affection to all he knew and trusted. (He could be a pest. LOL) I know they miss him. This little Sammy looks much like him physically, although bigger, but so far not as demonstrative with her affection -- or even interest. I wish them all the best. I'm glad my dog days are over.
As I am glad of so many things I'm leaving behind. One could take one look at my recent behavior and grow concerned. I am losing interest in things that used to delight me. I am giving away my worldly possessions. I've killed some plants by neglecting to water them. I did not plant a veggie garden this year and resented picking our prolific raspberries and already dread turning the frozen gallons of them into the jam we are known for and which is sought after in some circles.
I wander around the house and look at our accumulated "decor" and furnishings and have it narrowed down to a paltry bit that will be loaded into the moving van on some fateful day. I've lost the spark of joy for most of what I own/have/take care of. I'm just tired of it all.
But I'm not particularly worried about this change in behavior or emotion. It seems to be common enough that during times of transition such as we've undertaken, people begin to imagine a different future that doesn't include artifacts or detritus from the past.
We are now in the "active" phase of the decision to leave our big home and head to our lovely communal living community. Every time we visit we feel more ready to be there and launch a new beginning, creating new life for ourselves -- one that is less onerously tied to possessions and responsibilities. Every person we meet there says the hardest part of the move was the "downsize" - parting with things that held memories along with the old family home. They also said, once that was behind them, they wondered why they didn't do it sooner.
So I feel a bit in a limbo. We still live here and we still love our home and our views in all directions from our windows and all the memories of 44 years in this place. And we don't know when we are leaving, exactly. There is a significant wait list to get in to any of our preferred apartments. But I also imagine myself there, exploring new interests, meeting new people, decorating a new living space and enjoying all the amenities that I don't have to be responsible for maintaining!
So, for now, I am like Sammy. I bet we all are. Maybe we can all relate to being a bit cautious, but still open to a bit of training for entering a new phase of life. I've noticed I'm getting quiet, not doing much of what anyone might call "meaningful work", staying only tangentially aware of the collapse of our democracy (except for the pile of postcards I'm currently writing to Georgia voters to Get Out the Vote in under-represented communities), watching mostly sports, PBS mysteries and light drama or comedy shows on TV, voraciously reading every Jean Grainger series/book she's ever written (and there are many!), and focusing inward to find quiet, calm, safe spaces for mind and body -- staying close to home, finally committing to a strength training class at the Y, going for walks, doing my yoga practice, and attending my weekly coaching sessions (no, it's not therapy but might as well be) for nervous system regulation.
Sammy and I both have our work cut out for us, but we hope our humans will be patient and understanding and not scold us too much for what looks like disinterest or sloth as we adjust to the transition of significant endings and new beginnings, with a regulated nervous system. We will rise and be cute and fun and peppy as all get out -- someday soon.
At least, that's the view from here...©
