Sunday, June 10, 2007

My Yard, Three Views. View #3

Buddha (L) and Sweet Pea (R) on the swinging bench where Allen and I have our coffee in the mornings and look out over my flower garden.

Dogs. My parents and brothers had an unexplained disgust for dogs. They never had one, and whenever they saw one they grimaced and said unpleasant things. So I grew up at a distance from these animals, distrusting and fearing them. Allen and I got Buddha in 2005. Allen loves Boston Terriers, he'd had one when he was child. I was content to sit back and watch Allen and Buddha bond, not wanting to get that close. I didn't know how to act around a dog, how to approach a dog, play with a dog. When Sweet Pea came to us in May I had no intentions of things turning out any differently. I grew up with cats, and I love their independence. Allen says I have the temperament of cat: private, possessive, solitary. But when Allen had to go away for a week and I was left to tend Buddha and Sweet Pea, something happened. Sweet Pea bonded with me. She follows me everywhere and cries when I leave. She wants to sit at my feet, lie with me when I rest. This situation has caused me to think deeply about bonding and communication. I love quiet and I love being alone. Sweet Pea's demands on me have caused me to readjust my thinking. When I'm away from her, I find myself thinking about her and looking forward to our reunion. I think wistfully of her face, the black patch over one eye, white patch over the other, how her cheeks puff with air. I think of her pink belly, which is so soft and makes me think of a human baby.


Anonymous said...

This is lovely. Especially the part about the pink belly. When I was growing up, my family loved dogs but not cats. Because of what my parents said, I grew up thinking that cats were horrible creatures that mooched on you and never showed affection. Then one day--on a whim--I let my oldest daughter adopt a kitten. Now that grownup kitten has adopted me. She sleeps at the foot of my bed. I can tell the difference between her various meows, and I worry about her if I don't see her for several hours. Teagrapple

some chick said...

First, I have had pets of all kinds and have found that they seem to have souls. They bound, sometimes despite our own ideas, to the human that they choose. My current dog is bounded to anyone who lives in our house and will protect them even if it means her own death.

And she is one big ass dog, with big ass teeth.

Second, I am pleased to hear your voice in these posts and surprised to find so many personal things here. It feels like a bit of a summer vacation, like having coffee with you instead of going to school.


Anonymous said...

Oh, now I want a swing made for two just like that one! What a lovely way to begin the day. Teagrapple

Erin said...

The cat vs. dog mentality is so interesting! I grew up in a "dog" family that spoke ill of cats. My boyfriend grew up in a house that did not like dogs and had cats, but outside. For now, we both have goldfish. :-)

Theresa, I'm so happy that you have bonded with Sweet Pea. Your description is fantastic! It reminds me of how I feel about dogs, including Phoebe the dog.

Vicky said...

I am delighted that you have finally found a dog you can be close to, Theresa! I miss my Zelda immeasurably, but take comfort in seeing how you have grown so fond of Sweet Pea!

Out of school for the summer - yes, they let me out to play - so I am planning on revisiting blogland if I have two seconds - it is so nice to come and spend some time in your garden, my friend.

Love, Vicky

Anonymous said...

I love my dog. He is my son. My four-year-old niece heard me say once, "bring mommy your ball" and she looked at me, perplexed, and said, "You're not a mommy." And I told her I was, that Cooper was like my son. I miss him sometimes at work and when I get home from work, he is ecstatic. It feels awesome to be so loved, to be missed, to matter.
Pets are like people--except they love unconditionally.
Megan :o)



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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