Head Over Heels

Now I've gone and done it. Fallen in love. Hard. I knew it was just a matter of time. It's been awhile. He's a bit younger than me, but that's okay. It doesn't mean my love for Winslow has changed, or Jack Kerouac, or Wilfred Owen, or any of those fabulous gentlemen that have so long been a part of my life, but life must go on. That's what it does. Some love remains unrequited.

I haven't slept with him yet, cause I'm not that kinda girl. Maybe down the line, but for now he's been settling for sleeping near me. Like on the floor near my bed. As close as he can get without actually being In the bed. It was love at first sight.

His name is Buddy.

He's a golden retriever. Eight weeks old. He could well be the love of my life. I really thought someone else who shall remain nameless would always fill that bill, but time changes everything. He is sleeping in a shaft of sunlight at my feet as I write this. I think he loves me, too.

You know how something happens in your life and then you start seeing affirmations of its value in the world around you? This Sunday morning, the morning after I picked Buddy up and brought him home, I turned on the CBS Sunday Morning show and the entire show was on our love of animals. It included a segment on Dean Koontz, the mystery writer, who, after a lifetime of not really getting the whole dog = god thing, fell in love with a golden retriever that, in his own words, changed his life forever. He suddenly saw this dog, Trixie, as an angel. Truly. Trixie is gone now. She died of cancer and he has written a book about his experiences with her and the impact she had on his life. The book is titled, A Big Little Life.


He has since found another golden retriever to fill his life with the kind of happiness these wonderful beings bring, but it was Trixie that changed it. I kind of feel that way about Buddy, too.

I named him Buddy when I found myself thinking of him as such all the way down to St. Cloud, where I met him. And he is definitely my buddy. I met his mom and dad, too, and they are two really fine dogs. He comes from a good family. I kneeled down in front of Dad and explained to him that I would love Buddy all my life and take really good care of him. Duke, the dad, actually put up his paw for me to shake. It was awesome.

Casey, Mom, followed us to the car, almost trying to get in with us, so I stopped, kneeled down again and had a similar visit with her, telling her I would love and take care of him always. She settled down, sat back and smiled at me, while I put Buddy in the car. I'm so glad I got to meet them.

So, Buddy and I are just hanging out, getting to know each other, doing a little yard work, playing with squeaky toys and a washcloth he likes to drag around, prancing as he goes. He actually scratches at the door already when he needs to go out and do his toilette. In the vernacular of the peasantry that's pooping and peeing. Almost every time.

He likes those little carrots for snacks, organic, of course. He likes to help in the kitchen and keeps me company there. A prerequisite for me in any relationship. And he doesn't bark unless he's very happy and having a lot of fun and then just a bit. He doesn't whine unless I haven't noticed his signals about going outside. He's one cool dog.

It's good to be in love again.