Diana’s work friend is allergic to dogs. Sucks for her ‘cause it’s not one of those
fake “I actually don’t like dogs but will
call it an allergy so I don’t look like a jerk” kind of allergy. She actually has the sneezing all over the
place, can’t breathe, face turns red and body swells kind of allergy. I’ve seen her reaction in real life. Let me tell you - not pretty.
The lady is going to have a baby soon. We made this blankie for him:
When I visit Diana at work, I don’t visit with that lady, I
stay by Diana’s desk, shrug my shoulders and say “oh, well. I understand.” I do keep my distance and an eye on her,
though, so she doesn’t explode snot all over me.
Diana told me that today is the lady's last day at work before the
baby comes. This is exciting for some
reason. Me...well...I’m actually kinda sad for
the baby.
The baby will probably never get to know the joy of sharing
their life with a dog. That warm, melty feeling when a baby smiles - just
before they trash your fur with one of their sticky paws, the excitement we both
share when we realize I will actually enjoy eating their veggies, the
fulfillment of time well spent waiting for the bus to drop him home from
school, lazy days in the summer spent exploring our neighborhood together (me
looking for kittehs or squirrels, him looking for pirates or monsters), as well
as all the cold, rainy Sundays spent sharing the sofa while napping. You know, moments that make memories.
The heartbreakingly few well lived years us dogs spend on
this earth are best shared with a human companion who “gets” dogs. I told Diana
that it’s like a weaver making fabric. The human-animal interaction bond forms
the warp to balance and strengthen the human-human interaction bond that forms
the weave of the fabric of life. You can’t make fabric unless you have both. That’s
just individual strands of thread. Neither of us could withstand the difficulties
of life with a single layer of thread covering us. The strongest, most beautifully durable
fabric is lovingly made with warp threads going one direction and weave threads
the other.
I’m gonna head off now to take a little nap and dream this
hazy golden, Saturday Evening Post stylized dream of the perfect life we could all
live.
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Hey, it’s my blog. I get to dream
as I wish.
P.S. I will send the baby a note after he is born (ok, maybe
after he is old enough to read) to close his eyes, whisper his golden wishes to
the heavens filled with a million little stars and dreams of making such
memories for himself.
Nice, right? Right.
^ . . ^
Woof!
