Sam called around noon with his invitation, saying that he was downtown and starving. I immediately said yes, but then backtracked when I remembered that he would still have to go home to tend to Grr.
"Nope," he said. "I put him in preschool today."
'Preschool,' I learned, was basically four hours of puppy play time in a warehouse a few blocks from my office. Sam felt like Grr had been cooped up for the last few days with the rainy weather, so it would be good for him to stretch his legs and take out his cabin fever on somebody else for a change.
With Grr out of the way, we decided to meet in Union Square for Thai food. I had not been to Union Square in a couple of months. More importantly, I had not had the what-is-now-a luxury of actually dining with my partner in weeks.
Sure, we eat together, and sometimes, even do it when we don't have to keep one eye on Grr (such as dinners or brunches out with friends). But just the two of us? Last time that happened was three and a half weeks ago when we grabbed a quick lunch at Red Lobster before hurrying back to the adoption agency to get Grr and irrevocably change our lives forever. For the better, of course. Yeah. . .
As I walked toward our meeting place, I got more and more excited with each passing block. I could hardly believe that we would have this time together. I thought of all the things we could talk about now that we were distraction-free: from my anxieties about my impending a cappella stint to how this blog is going, from his fallout with our friend Allen to my friends out in Japan (who, thankfully, have only experienced minor damage from the earthquake/tsunami). We finally can have a meal where we eat leisurely, focus on each other, and not have to worry about what trouble Grr is finding for himself.
And in an ideal world, maybe all of that would have happened. We would have shared our feelings with each other over a leisurely meal, full of lingering glances and stolen moments. We'd leave not only with sated appetites, but a deeper understanding of each other as lovers. If time permitted, maybe we would even get to braiding each other's hair.
But this is reality, one where we were both starving and couldn't wolf down our food fast enough, and one where our lives are so enveloped by Grr, from the moment we wake up (which these days is four in the morning) to the moment all lights are off and we go to sleep, we really couldn't think of anything to talk about that wasn't about Grr, nor did we necessarily want to. We covered his development, his favorite toys, his squirreliness, his pooping habits, even (six times in a 24 hour period, the latest record he set yesterday).
Sam described how Grr was feeling when he got dropped off earlier, how his tail gradually loosened from between his legs as he found compatible playmates among the 20 other puppies. The women working there fell absolutely in love, fawning all over him and exclaiming how adorable he was:
During lunch, Sam suggested that we call the facility and check up on him, make sure he was doing OK with all the other pups. I immediately flashed back to my grade school years when I would be embarassed by my parents just by their presence and caring (horrific, I know), so I tried to dissuade him by asking if he wants to do that to Grr (as if he, or any of the other puppies, care). I thought I succeeded until I got back to my desk and found an e-mail from him saying that he just called (mere minutes after we parted ways) and Grr was fine, playing with both the staff and the other 'preschoolers.'
So lunch didn't go exactly as I had envisioned, and I think I see now just how entrenched we are in terms of "parenthood." Still, I can't say that I would have wanted lunch to be any different, and parenthood, tiring and trying as it may be, does come with its own rewards. I told Sam that I ran into an old friend at the gym who did not know we adopted a puppy. She was overjoyed, saying that having a dog has been the most rewarding thing for her, to have him run to the front door every evening to greet her, full of love and excitement. And she was right. Grr does routinely act as though we are reuniting every afternoon when I come home from work, sometimes even if I just go upstairs for a few minutes. Couple that with a partner who wants to have lunch with me during the day, even if all we talk about is the aforementioned pup, well, life can't be too bad.
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