I Miss My Dogs




Yes, they bark nonstop, drool, their farts peel the paint off the wall, and half of my floor is still insulated by their hair, but I miss them. I didn’t realize how much until I had them for the weekend. It wasn’t anything special. I completely tore the guest bathroom apart to paint it a much sunnier and brighter color than advertised on the tiny paint chip (my bathroom is still in pieces in the living room while I decide what to do with the color). I bathed them. Laid in the hammock on the porch with them for a bit while they dried. Bought them new bones to gnaw. They hung out on the front porch and barked at every person that passed, or twig that broke, or car alarm that went off… I put raw eggs in their food as treats. Took them for a late night walk/drag. Nothing to out of the ordinary. Wiggy still walks me to the door when I leave; Dita barely opens one eye. Wiggy always gets up to greet me, even if I just came in from taking out the garbage. Dita still attacks me if I have cheese in my hand; Wiggy salivates over grapes. Wiggy still takes the blame for everything, while Dita takes none. Wiggy is still angst ridden; Dita randomly performs her “happy dances.” Wiggy still loves to sniff and groom Zelda; Dita still tries to eat her. Wiggy still sits near me and sighs loudly when he thinks I am ignoring him; Dita still tries to sit in my lap any chance she gets.
I was relieved when they were gone. I could make my bed without Dita rubbing up against it and destroying the sheets. I could take a nap without them waking me up every four minutes. I could climb into bed at night without having to wonder when was the last time I took them out. I didn’t have to scramble to make sure they had food and water in the morning, when I barely remember to feed myself sometimes. I didn’t have to cover the furniture with crap so they wouldn’t climb on it when I was gone. I didn’t have someone breathing on me constantly, telepathically begging me, “Pay attention to me! Pay attention to me!” But they both have great hearts.
It’s been eight months and I still miss them. And they drive me up the wall. And they make me laugh. And without diving into things too personal, that’s what happens when any relationship ends - for whatever reason (good or bad) or regardless of whoever initiates it, there is still loss. And you still keep feeling it. And it still affects you. Deep in my writing last night, I had a mild panic attack thinking I was ignoring the dogs. And with the calm that came when I realized that they were gone, there also came sadness.
I went to the SPCA about a month ago to see if I could find another dog, and while there were a lot of great ones, there wasn’t one that jumped out at me. I’m not in a rush. I’ll find one. It just has to be right.
And I know this just "screams it," but for once, this is not a metaphor for anything else. Honest.
I just really miss my dogs.