2/23/2011 - like a flash. . .

I'll try and make this the last post I do on (now tentatively-named) Grr this week, or at least for a few days.  Well, maybe until Friday, since I kind of already know what I want to write about tomorrow.

Anyway, as wonderful (and wonderfully tiring) as Grr's presence in our lives has been, one factor is slightly less than wonderful: cost.  Already, the price of adopting him, including food, crate, toys, puppy mats, wipes, treats, etc. is quickly creeping up to the four-digit mark, and we haven't even taken him to his first vet visit yet.  I think a part of the cost can be attributed to one surprising discovery: for all of Sam's posturing on being the tough guy, above it all and hard to the core, he has been an exceptionally patient and doting parent, if not a little indulgent.  The floor of our house now looks like a shelf at PetCo; no expenses were spared in providing him all that a first-'born' puppy should have.

Another surprise was that I did not mind--me, who usually thinks twice before ordering soda at a restaurant because I don't want to pay two dollars for something I can get for much less at Safeway.  It helps that prior to Grr, Sam and I were in the process of planning a trip back out to Oahu to recreate one of the best vacations I (and I think we) had ever had.  Not only is it less of a possibility now from a financial perspective, but there is no way we could just leave him in a kennel or doggy hotel for a week.  It would break Sam's heart.

Of course, I am slightly disappointed in not being able to take the trip.  The last time we were there was about three years ago.  We stayed at a small boutique hotel off of the main Waikiki strip, and quickly settled into a routine of waking up, eating, playing at the beach, eating, playing at the beach, and eating.  We watched almost every evening's sunset, how the sun sinks into the Pacific with a brief flash of green.  Whether it actually happens or it exists only in our eyes, something in our brains, we were fascinated by it.

When I think back to the trip, I remember most clearly those moments when we sat on the rock wall of Waikiki's Queen's Surf Beach (fitting, I know), watching those sunsets.  I remember feeling like never in my life had I ever taken the time to do nothing but watch the day literally go by.  I look back on this trip as the quintessential vacation that all other vacations aspire to be, even though I have nothing left from this experience other than a few photos and the memories in my head. 

And then there's Grr.  I told Sam this evening that, God willing, Grr will be with us for at least another 10 or 15 years.  I know his puppy days will not last for long; it will be like a flash of green in a sunset and before I know it, I will be 40 years old on his 10th "birthday."  It's hard to envision anything of my life in 10 years, what I will be doing and where, and who will be a part of it.  I have my hopes, sure, but who can say?  Yet certain as I am that Grr will turn Sam into an over-protective mom (while Grr and I were playing tug-of-war, Sam actually told me to let Grr win sometimes because it will be good for his puppy self-esteem), I know that we and Grr will be together then.  I see his face, the eager way he looks up at me when I watch him from the balcony, and I feel like he is already waiting to meet us there.