It’s been a while since I last posted anything, anywhere. It’s almost Christmas; time for an update.
Last year, I wanted (desperately) to retire. I decided I was too old to be
slaving away for thankless taskmasters still working. However in order to retire there were a few logistics to overcome; my sister and I shared a home and a dog. We sold the house. My sister moved to the UK to be with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren, where she is a resident “Grammie” lapping up hugs all over the place.
But how to divide up a dog?
Max, our mixed up Maltese, didn’t fancy a boat ride across the Atlantic and decided to stay with me. He may be wishing he’d made a wiser choice. I moved to a place with two dogs in residence. One is a large husky cross, Sonny. The other is a short, built-like-a-tank terrier mix, Thor. Both were quite delighted to have a new addition to the family. Both have tried hard to engage with Max on some meaningful level, but Max will have none of it. He disdains his own kind; taking great pains to be wherever the other dogs are NOT, using every ounce of his cunning to evade capture by either of these beasts.
Max has the advantage of being small. He fits into places neither dog can reach. Also, Thor was born blind; another break for Max, who takes full advantage of it. Every now and then I catch Max sniffing Thor when the guy’s back is turned. Max then scoots away as Thor tries to pinpoint his presence.
My aloof little dog could learn a thing or two from his new companions. From Thor, he could learn to deal with obstacles with grace and aplomb. When Thor runs into a table, chair, or door in his way, he simply stops, backs up, and finds a way around it. I hear his head bump many times in a day, but he never yelps, murmurs or complains. He could also show Max how to accept what he can’t change.
What can Max learn from Sonny, besides how to avoid being stepped on, you ask? Maybe patience and nurturing. Thor and Sonny are best buds; Everywhere Sonny is, there is Thor. They go out the door together, come in together, eat side by side, drink from the same bowl. If Sonny is present, Thor races around fearlessly in the yard after him. Alone, Thor becomes, quite literally, lost. He needs his pal to guide him.
But Max remains apart, refusing to enter into any kind of social interaction with his new colleagues. I observe him watching Sonny and Thor playing together, and fancy I see a glimmer of wistfulness come over him. I live in hope that one day he’ll join in the shenanigans and hijinks, maybe even become the third musketeer.
After all, Christmas is a time for hope, is it not?