If Only...

Crushed in Spirit

I'm not entirely sure why, but the lines in Dickens' Oliver Twist sprang to mind yesterday evening:

"...when a young and gentle spirit has, but an instant, fled to Heaven: and the gross air of the world has not had time to breathe upon the changing dust it hallowed.”

Sometimes I feel so badly for Maxwell.  He has an inherently good, albeit mischievous air about him.  Telling him "No" is difficult at times, simply for the earnest gentleness he carries with him.  Occasionally I feel that being so rigid with him defeats his spirit, no matter how much a regimen of consistent discipline begets a loyal and obedient dog.

You see, yesterday evening my two youngest, Emma and Liam, and I were in the master bathroom getting ready for bath time.  My son takes baths, and my daughter showers, and they are both young enough they need supervision and help yet.  Maxwell of course was with us, because he truly loves to be around his family.  The following scene played out:

First my son was using the toilet before getting in the tub, and he is still at the age where his pants and underwear are around his ankles every time he goes potty.  He had his back to us, and his little booty was hanging out in the breeze.  Now, it was easy to see the impish wheels turning in Maxwell's mind, and he was preparing to bounce up and nip Liam right in the backside. 

Before it could happen, I sternly said, "No, Maxwell." 

His shoulders slumped and he sat down obediently instead.  In reality, if he had nipped Liam's backside it wouldn't have been the end of the world--in fact it would have been rather humorous really.  I can just imagine the mayhem that would have followed and it makes me chuckle to think about it.

Next, while I was bathing my son, out of the corner of my eye I saw Maxwell sneak over to the pile of freshly shed dirty clothes, root around, select a sweaty sock, and tiptoe away. 

"Maxwell, drop it."

Woefully he deposited the sock and sighed heavily.  He likely would have chewed a hole in the sock, and if he'd swallowed some or all of it it very well could have been dangerous to him.  But he sure was awfully cute swiping it, and really he just wants to immerse himself in his family's scent.  And the abject sadness in his eyes as he dropped it...

Then as I moved on to help my daughter rinse her hair completely in the shower, I glance over and Maxwell is standing front paws on the side of the tub.  Anyone can easily see it's a matter of seconds before he's in the bathwater with my son.

"Maxwell, down." 

Reluctantly he obeyed.  The mess a dog and a little boy in a bathtub together could make is substantial.  And is a boy really clean if he's shared a tub with a dog?  The two of them would have had a time though.  And I can hear the shouts of laughter echo in my mind.

Finally Maxwell sticks his head in the open shower door as I'm rinsing my daughter's hair.  He's chasing and snapping at the splatters of the shower water raining down.

"Maxwell!" comes the frustrated cry.

Again, his head dropped.  His tail drooped.  And this time he wandered out of the bathroom, obviously dejected.

It was then that Dickens sprang to mind.  In some regards it's silliness because obviously Maxwell didn't die.  (neither did Oliver Twist in that particular scene either, but that's off the subject).  But perhaps Maxwell's spirit gave way, just a little.  And isn't that a tragedy of its own?  Should he lose a small bit of innocence because he was acting just as he should?  Like a puppy?

What do we crush in others when we expect them to fit our expectations rather than who they truly are?

Coming Out

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No, I am not gay as the title might suggest (you can start breathing again mom).  In fact that is neither here nor there, and it has very little bearing on this post.  But the very fact that I feel compelled to make that statement has everything to do with this post.  It's the very reason for this post.

During the last week of March as the SCOTUS took up arguments regarding the DOMA the symbol you see to the left started popping up everywhere.  Starting with social media and quickly going viral it was everywhere.  It only took a few sightings before I put two and two together, realizing the meaning.  My first instinct was to change my FB profile image to reflect this simple graphic.

But I didn't.

Why?  Because I'm a coward.

I have many friends who happen to also be gay.  Not in a "token gay friend" way, more in a "Law of Averages" kind of way.  I enjoy being around smart, articulate, fun people, and given the cross section of America...  It makes me angry when people who don't know my friends discriminate against them.  I think it's stupid.  And it sucks.

So why then the balk?

Likely because I also have friends who are narcissistic enough to think they know what's best for every other individual on the planet.  That somehow gay marriage is going to single-handedly bring down civilization as we know it (we can only hope, right?).

So here I sit.  And I know this in no way approaches the level of anxiety some feel as they reveal they are gay to loved ones.  But I do feel a bit anxious about what some people in my life will say.  It doesn't compel me to change my beliefs, but rather I don't look forward to the arguments that may start.  And I may just flat out lose a friend or two.

Which is unfortunate.

I wussed out before, so now I make a stand for what I believe in.  I know this is a new blog with a limited readership for now, but it's a start.  And maybe it will make it easier to stand up in the future.  Not for gay marriage; for marriage equality.

Because bigotry sucks.  Sorry mom, but you taught me that too.

PS:  I'm typing this on my laptop in the local Chick-fil-A.  The irony is almost too much.

Goosebumps

This may not come off as significant to you as it felt to me--in fact you may think I'm silly.

However...

The other day as I was writing on the page here on the blog about Bo, our first Golden, I was looking at dates regarding both dogs.  Now, understand I was well aware of all these dates and could easily recite them if you'd asked.

But I'd never put the two together in context of each other.

When I finally did, I just sat in stunned silence as the prickle of goosebumps ran up my spine and my eyes smarted.

You see, in 2010 we said a heart-wrenching goodbye to Bo on February 22.  This year we brought home and said hello to Maxwell.  On February 23.

The very next day.

A new day indeed.

I defy you tell me Maxwell wasn't chosen for us.

Conversations With Orion

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One of my very favorite times of day I've come to discover, is Maxwell's last potty break of the night.  Since Maxwell gets excitable while any other activity is carrying on outside his crate, this last trip to the backyard usually occurs after everyone else has retreated to their rooms for the night.  I generally put the house to sleep before taking him out back, so it's almost exclusively alone time.

Now make no mistake, I live in the heart of the 3rd largest metro area in the United States, so this could hardly be labeled quiet time.  The ambient (and sometimes not so ambient) sounds of the city are all around.  However, the back of our house faces west by southwest which is essentially away from the more developed portions of the Metroplex, and so we do have some degree of lessened light pollution, if nothing else.

It so happens this orientation--at this time of night, during the winter months--also grants an unobstructed view of the Orion constellation.

And so I find myself, night after night, lifting my eyes to these familiar stars while I wait for Maxwell to do his business.  By chance and propinquity, Orion has turned into an old friend, a companion, a confidant, a paragon.

I admire him for his stoicism.  No matter my mood; no matter the subject of conversation, he greets me with the same affable silence.  He's not ever cranky.  He doesn't ever mock me, or belittle my feelings.  He listens with a quiet attentiveness.

I admire him for his tenacity.  Night after night he traverses the sky, always in pursuit of his mythical quarry. I have never heard him complain.  Solemn he stands, a bastion of perseverance.

Of course I know that Orion is little more than a grouping of gaseous stars hundreds of light years away.  In fact the light I'm seeing now was emitted well before I was born.  But he's been an unassuming constant in this life where so often I feel utterly lost.

Soon Orion will slip behind the blinding curtain of our own sun's daytime glare for the duration of the summer.  I will miss our unpretentious whisperings, and I look forward to picking up where we left off come Autumn.