Do I love you?
Oh, I do. I’ll tell you how much, Dear. I won’t tell you all the details right now. But someday, when you are older, you might stumble across this blog of mine… And then you’ll find out the truth.
I love you so much that I let you have a pet. That buffalo that you love so well, the one that masquerades as a dog… The one that digs holes in the front yard and sleeps on my couch. Yeah, that one. I love you so much that I let you have the dog.
Late last night, while you were sleeping peacefully, your beloved dog didn’t feel so well. It seems that his foray into the garbage can yesterday gave him much more than the plunder he sought. He got a tummy ache.
At midnight, his restlessness grew into groans. The rest of the house was sleeping soundly. But Dog was unhappy. As time ticked by, his sadness ballooned into a storm of desperation. He needed to go outside. Bark, bark, bark.
I stumbled to the hall, donned my parka over my bathrobe, stepped into my son’s arctic boots that are three sizes too big for me, and opened the front door. A cloud of steam escaped, swirling, dissipating off the porch, and I gasped for air. Did I mention it was cold? The windchill was under -20 Farenheit last night. I braced myself. I’m tough.
We walked up and down the icy street in the dead of night, Dog and I. With not a cloud in the sky, the stars pierced the heavens brilliantly, glittering their reflections on the snow. It was brittle, but beautiful, I will admit. But I wondered at my own sanity. I wondered how many minutes it would take for my hands to freeze. I wondered how my mag light would fare against coyotes. I wondered when your dog would finish his business of being sick, and want to go back inside. His paws got cold, too.
We repeated the scenario a couple hours later.
It was still dark. Still starry. Still frigid.
Still, you slept. And I was glad. Because I love you.
By 4:00 a.m., he finally stopped the bark bark bark noises, and settled down for a nice old-dog-nap. I started the coffee.
So here I sit, sipping some ridiculously thick coffee, and thinking of you. You’ll be up soon for school, and I’ll be making your breakfast and lunch and pushing you out the door. Dog and I will spend the day together, I will write and paint, he will sleep and bark.
Yes, I love you quite a lot, My Dear.
Oh, I do. I’ll tell you how much, Dear. I won’t tell you all the details right now. But someday, when you are older, you might stumble across this blog of mine… And then you’ll find out the truth.
I love you so much that I let you have a pet. That buffalo that you love so well, the one that masquerades as a dog… The one that digs holes in the front yard and sleeps on my couch. Yeah, that one. I love you so much that I let you have the dog.
Late last night, while you were sleeping peacefully, your beloved dog didn’t feel so well. It seems that his foray into the garbage can yesterday gave him much more than the plunder he sought. He got a tummy ache.
At midnight, his restlessness grew into groans. The rest of the house was sleeping soundly. But Dog was unhappy. As time ticked by, his sadness ballooned into a storm of desperation. He needed to go outside. Bark, bark, bark.
I stumbled to the hall, donned my parka over my bathrobe, stepped into my son’s arctic boots that are three sizes too big for me, and opened the front door. A cloud of steam escaped, swirling, dissipating off the porch, and I gasped for air. Did I mention it was cold? The windchill was under -20 Farenheit last night. I braced myself. I’m tough.
We walked up and down the icy street in the dead of night, Dog and I. With not a cloud in the sky, the stars pierced the heavens brilliantly, glittering their reflections on the snow. It was brittle, but beautiful, I will admit. But I wondered at my own sanity. I wondered how many minutes it would take for my hands to freeze. I wondered how my mag light would fare against coyotes. I wondered when your dog would finish his business of being sick, and want to go back inside. His paws got cold, too.
We repeated the scenario a couple hours later.
It was still dark. Still starry. Still frigid.
Still, you slept. And I was glad. Because I love you.
By 4:00 a.m., he finally stopped the bark bark bark noises, and settled down for a nice old-dog-nap. I started the coffee.
So here I sit, sipping some ridiculously thick coffee, and thinking of you. You’ll be up soon for school, and I’ll be making your breakfast and lunch and pushing you out the door. Dog and I will spend the day together, I will write and paint, he will sleep and bark.
Yes, I love you quite a lot, My Dear.
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