Lonesome
Why I Miss My Dog More Than My Husband
Since my husband and my dog drove to Montana; it’s been a week of perfect peace and quiet. I felt happy as they drove off, waving in the darkness before sunrise. Just what I needed: Time.
Unfettered time to be alone; write with no interruptions; read whenever I want; eat popcorn for dinner; sleep without earplugs; keep the kitchen counters free from crumbs; walk without having to worry about my dog digging or eating baby birds, and so on… Everything under my control, Queen of my castle.
Until that same afternoon, between four and five o’clock, no dog nudging me, with her nose, to get up, away from my desk, my computer, looking at me with those frowning eyebrows, begging me (her paw on my leg) to take our walk. It was time! That time of day I listen to the guard quail calling out ‘Chi-ca-go’ to its covey.
No kibble to sprinkle into her bowl, her dancing around as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She inhales it faster than I can pour a glass of wine! My dinner didn’t taste so great because she was not there watching; staring, waiting for any morsel to float down from the table. No Pavlovian dog salivating at my side.
That night I missed putting her towel out on the end of our bed, Ruby’s place. No scent of grass, of sage, of dog. No reason to go outside and urge her to “go potty” before bed. I could sit and knit, watching Netflix with no interruptions.
But I missed that time since that’s the one time of day I look up at the night sky, find Venus, maybe watch long enough and see a shooting star. To listen to the owls hooting back and forth in their nightly conversation. I just sat there like a lump, knitting (robot-like), but with no interruptions.
Naturally, I love my husband and of course, I miss him. BUT, when I come home from being gone, even for an hour, it goes something like this: “Hi, I’m home.” No response. I know he has his earbuds in and can’t hear me, but, come on!
Meanwhile, Ruby runs to greet me, sliding across the tile floor. She welcomes me back with her tail wagging, smiles (really, golden retrievers smile), prances, sniffs, and runs around in circles to keep herself from jumping up! Finally, Bill says: “huh?”
