But let's back up. Time appears to run in circles and I know I am circling around what I'm trying to talk about. It all started with my dog, Lacey. She's getting old, nearly fourteen and a half in people years. We got her when my daughter was eight because when she was little and begged us for a dog we thought becoming eight years old sounded like it was in some distant land. We also thought in time she might forget her wish. But time is tricky. It's the outside, long shot, racing from the starting gate and rounding the track faster than anyone imagined. Eight came and the dog question was still strongly there and Lacey almost magically appeared to us.
Lacey has been a saint of a dog. She bonded more with my husband than my daughter or myself, even though he was the one who least wanted her. During my daughter's childhood she became the family member who led us on hikes, protected us from harm, and made sure both outdoors and at home we were all accounted for. The grown up daughter is on her own path now, and the continuing-to-grow-up parents are trying to create a new path without her, but with the old ties of a dog and several remaining cats.
I'm circling around to days spent and a dog aging. I'm sixty-four and though I've had a hard time with this empty nest phase, there's now a huge part of me that wants to be free to roam, free to create, free to tuck my days into my back pocket to do with as I wish. My sixties have begun to feel like my twenties when I sought out traveling and intellectual adventures, choosing to study and eventually to live abroad. But this time I want to do many of my undertakings with my husband. And I want to be ready for spur of the moment, day and weekend getaways.
Lacey goes through her ups and downs, just as aging people do. She's been fairly healthy for her age. But she has had trouble walking, trouble doing her business in the back garden rather than in the house, trouble with nervous comings and goings and early morning barking. I've woken up ready to have a creative day and before I can even adjust to the light, there's a mess to clean up. Or I've stayed up late and the dog wants to wake up super early. Sometimes Lacey needs help to stand up on all fours and my husband and I both gladly try to assist her. We have mostly been rewarded with relief, but we have also been rewarded with growls and snarls.
I know I'm sounding like a whiny ingrate. I know the value of a dog's loyalty and companionship. And Lacey gets gold stars all around. It's difficult because though we constantly talk with her, she doesn't necessarily understand why she can't be the younger, agile animal she once was. My husband tells me I am very caring and patient with Lacey. But I know this isn't continually so. Inside I've raged about my days being dictated by dog care...as I'm picking up back yard or indoor poop or because of these frequent accidents, letting Lacey outside as often as her heart desires. I kept thinking my dog days were holding me back, keeping me city bound and unable to risk breaking my staid, routine mold of living. My young old age is flying by, I'd tell my husband, and we can't take off on a moment's notice.
We've had dog/house sitters, but this requires planning. I suppose what I'm after is the less planned days of a youth gone by. I'm like my dog. I simply don't comprehend or believe in my aging process. But wait. I had a sudden revelation. This goes back to a minute seeming like an hour and a twenty-four hour period seeming like a minute. My dear Lacey is smarter than I give her credit for. I've written about my slower walks with my dog and this is where the revelation began. Lacey can't go far and she loves to meander and stop a thousand times on each block. Naturally I was frustrated at first. But then a light glowed. Lacey was telling me to slow down, smell the roses, be present to each sidewalk crack, each green leaf, each part of my day.
A dog knows time is dictated by the mind. And for a dog, his or her mind only works moment to moment. Lacey doesn't understand past or future. If she is mad at me one day, she has forgotten about it the next. Dogs forgive and forget. My mind makes me anxious about my slipping away days. I can lasso these days by erasing the rage, erasing the frustrations, erasing the burdens. What I realize is that dear Lacey isn't holding me back from my desires and hopes, I am. We humans are a dumb species as compared to the other parts of the animal kingdom.
Days lengthen when I patiently and lovingly take care of my duties while also putting in time for self-expression, self-love and family/friend communications. Worry, with its unmindful mutterings, filter the sands quicker through the hour glass. I know these things. I've known these things. To travel abroad is a legitimate dream; to live spontaneously in whatever time and place I happen to be is a legitimate possibility. More extensive travel doesn't fit with my current circumstances: an aging dog is actually at the bottom of my list; my daughter may only be living in Portland for the next three years; my husband's retirement will be official in two years; I will have finally worked out the emotional kinks of the empty nest phase and my relationship to time will become creative, flowing. So thank you Lacey, I need these dog gone days!
© 2011
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