Then
The other night i dreamt i was all by myself in a dark space in a new place, and i was whining for someone to help me. In my dream i could not hear the soothing sound of Molly’s snores or feel the gentle rhythm of Sheeva’s purrs, and i could not see any comfortable figures sleeping nearby. Sadly, i was slumbering solo, a solitary fur ball surrounded by looming shadows created by what…i did not know, but each with the definite intention of harming my fragile puppy body.
Dogs don’t sweat, but if we did, i would have awoken from my dream in a horrible pool of my own fear…drenched in my own despair…bathed in my own unease. Instead, with no salvation in sight, i shivered and shook and yelped and cried, hoping to be discovered and rescued from what i was sure would be an untimely demise.
This wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare!
It wasn’t a nightmare, it was a flashback!
On the first night in my new home, i lay down to rest in a big kennel in a big room with a big void in my tiny puppy heart.
See, when i was a wee little pup, mom and dad had the crazy notion i should sleep all alone in my kennel at night while they slumbered peacefully far down the hallway. They imagined i should nod off in isolation while they retired in their spacious queen-sized bed warmed by Molly. They believed i should hit the hay helplessly while they relaxed and were made cozy by Sheeva. And i should be ok with that?
Yeah, no.
In my dream i whined for help. In reality, i howled at the top of my ever-loving puppy lungs. Loudly. Incessantly. Without reserve. I needed help…i needed a hand…i needed some paws.
For two weeks after they brought me home, mom and dad took turns each night coming out and curling up next to my kennel so i would fall asleep. They threw down a camping pad, grabbed a pillow, and covered up with a blanket so i would know i wasn’t alone. Eventually, i worked my way out of the kennel and onto their pad and inevitably drifted off to a safe night’s snoozing.
After two more weeks of uncomfortable human floor-dwelling, mom and dad set up a place for me down the hallway, next to their spacious queen-sized bed, warmed by Molly, and made cozy by Sheeva.
Because i asked for help.
Sometimes new can be scary, and we might feel as if we are on our own. Moving to a new town. Hanging out at a new dog park. Starting a new school. Beginning a new job. Going away to college. Getting married. Getting divorced. Signing up at a new gym. Jumping off a new ledge. Even the third round of dog-obedience classes…can all be scary!
What if i don’t look right? What if my leash is out of date? What if i get lost, or fall down, or trip over my own four feet? What if the teacher makes me sit in the center of the arena because i can’t stay focused!!!!??? Will the other dogs point and laugh?!?
Maybe i won’t like the treats at this new place. Maybe my bark will be wrong or sound funny. Maybe my giant puppy body will stand out in a world of miniature poodles.
Maybe i will get hurt. Maybe this…whatever this is…isn’t the right choice for me! Maybe i’m crazy and i should just stay here…wherever here is…and be happy and safe and carefree forever.
Maybe i sound like you? And maybe you’re ok with that?
Yeah, no.
Howl at the top of your lungs. Howl loudly, incessantly, and without reserve. Ask for help…ask for a hand…reach out for a paw.
The world is a big scary place, and it is hard to make it alone. So don’t.
Trust me… or come find me for proof. I sleep in the middle of the spacious queen-sized bed down the hallway…warmed by Molly…made cozy by Sheeva…and completed by me.
i’m a dog, i love life, and i have flaws. i’m perfect. imperfect. Just. Like. You.