Wanna' Go For a Ride?
Six or seven weeks back I made a mistake. On a Saturday morning I asked the question that all dogs want to hear:
"Wanna' go for a ride?"
Melky and Shadow jumped off the bed to meet me at the door.
Now, Saturday's start the same way - I answer e-mail, have a cup of coffee, and try desperately to fend off Melky who understands that it is time for that weekly ride to pick up the paper. Sadly, this week it is just Melky, Sam, Jake and me.
I've tried fooling Melky with the calendar by pointing at it and saying, "It's only Friday." But she'll have none of it. Right now, she's staring at me, waiting for the clicking to stop, hoping that I'll push back in the chair and reach for the doorknob.
Yet this is not simply a blog about dogs - I must admit that they are on my mind this week, but only because of the greater lessons they teach me about my life.
Melky is a mess. She misses Shadow so passionately that my heart aches for her. She actually took a dump in the house this week because she can't handle walking around the backyard alone. She hasn't figured out why - and God help me - I can't explain it to her. I tried telling her that we had to let, The broken hearts stand as the price we gotta' pay, but she can't stand Bruce's singing voice - or mine either for that matter. (Listen to the words), I said.
And then there is the anticipation of something so cool to take a little of the pain away. I tried to explain that the ride in the car, which is coming soon, will not take away the hurt - and neither will the shot of Jameson's, or the laughs on the golf course, or the Yankees winning, or the next Springsteen concert.
"Let's just go," she said.
So, we'll go and she'll wag her tail and leap into the car, and kiss me thankfully when we return home.
And later today, I'll see that lost look in her eyes, and I'll pat her head and tell her it'll be all right.
And she'll see that I'm just lying to her about it getting easier.
She'll wonder why life can't always be just about going for a ride, and I'll tell her that it just doesn't work that way.
"Wanna' go for a ride?"
Melky and Shadow jumped off the bed to meet me at the door.
Now, Saturday's start the same way - I answer e-mail, have a cup of coffee, and try desperately to fend off Melky who understands that it is time for that weekly ride to pick up the paper. Sadly, this week it is just Melky, Sam, Jake and me.
I've tried fooling Melky with the calendar by pointing at it and saying, "It's only Friday." But she'll have none of it. Right now, she's staring at me, waiting for the clicking to stop, hoping that I'll push back in the chair and reach for the doorknob.
Yet this is not simply a blog about dogs - I must admit that they are on my mind this week, but only because of the greater lessons they teach me about my life.
Melky is a mess. She misses Shadow so passionately that my heart aches for her. She actually took a dump in the house this week because she can't handle walking around the backyard alone. She hasn't figured out why - and God help me - I can't explain it to her. I tried telling her that we had to let, The broken hearts stand as the price we gotta' pay, but she can't stand Bruce's singing voice - or mine either for that matter. (Listen to the words), I said.
And then there is the anticipation of something so cool to take a little of the pain away. I tried to explain that the ride in the car, which is coming soon, will not take away the hurt - and neither will the shot of Jameson's, or the laughs on the golf course, or the Yankees winning, or the next Springsteen concert.
"Let's just go," she said.
So, we'll go and she'll wag her tail and leap into the car, and kiss me thankfully when we return home.
And later today, I'll see that lost look in her eyes, and I'll pat her head and tell her it'll be all right.
And she'll see that I'm just lying to her about it getting easier.
She'll wonder why life can't always be just about going for a ride, and I'll tell her that it just doesn't work that way.
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