Not too long ago, though it feels like much longer, I would hide in the closet every evening after dinner. Sam would be downstairs loading the dishwasher, Grr would be licking at any exposed sliver of silverware, and I would be safely retreated upstairs in the closet where we had set up a modest home office. And I would proceed to stay there for an hour or two, mostly working on the blog. Every so often, I would hear Sam laugh at the TV, change positions on the couch, yell at Grr, and I would feel two things: longing to be down there like I used to be B.G. (before Grr), and guilt for wanting to be away from them.
Yes, I needed time to write the day's post, but typically, I would be finished within an hour. My guilt grew out of how I spent the rest of my time: checking e-mail, surfing online, rechecking e-mail, catching up on Facebook, and basically frittering away every usable minute of my evening in an attempt to avoid going downstairs and spending time with my partner and my dog. I couldn't put enough distance between me and them, for they only represented the life I once had that now had gone away, and I didn't want to face the reality that is my new, dog-owning life. Suddenly, I valued alone time over sprawling on the couch laughing at AFV.
With Grr, it felt like Sam and I picked up a housemate that disrupted the very fabric of our existence merely by existing himself. Though Grr didn't always want our attention, was content to sit in a corner, gnawing on whatever toy that struck his fancy, his presence was all-permeating. I know I've said it before somewhere here while stuck in my pit of self-pity, but I found that Sam and I barely existed outside of Grr. Our attentions were on him when he was around, our conversations centered around him when he was not. Where I once was content with just spending time with Sam, I now had to find room to fit this other being, this other body, this other person.
Turns out, I didn't know how to share.
And then, things started to change. I'm not sure how it all happened, or even when, but I slowly began coming downstairs earlier and earlier, until finally, I began writing and finishing the blog during my lunch hour. Grr ownership, though not without challenges, no longer seemed like the onus it once did, and I unabashedly started looking forward to seeing him run up to me every afternoon when I came home from work, still sweaty from my commute and desperate to park my bike before Grr pounced all over me. I caught myself watching him one afternoon as he stared intently out of the window at the sound of approaching sirens, his eyes wide and full of panic, yet behind the bewilderment still shone the soulfulness that defines him.
The other afternoon, Sam, Grr, and I all fell asleep in the afternoon after a full morning of beach running at Fort Funston, Grr's favorite park. Well, it was full of his running, and us meandering casually along the coastline. For a pup who normally has his tail tucked so far between his legs one can see it from his front, we both admitted that it was a nice sight, seeing him actually have fun.
Because really, I want nothing more than to see him live a long and happy life, the same one that I plan on and can see myself living A.G.
And tonight, I find myself back upstairs after dinner, back in the closet because I didn't have time this afternoon to write today's post, back listening to Sam and his TV, Grr and his jingling tags. This is the first moment all day that I've had to myself, yet I can't finish this post fast enough so I can head downstairs and spend the rest of the evening with my two favorite boys.
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