Maggie ~

I ended my “petlessness” last Tuesday afternoon. I brought Maggie home.

I’m dog-people, and God bless all the cat -lovers who tried to talk me into coming over to the kitty side of things, I just couldn’t do it. My heart was set on a someday-dog. And someday finally came.

I’ve wanted a dog for the longest time. I just haven’t given myself permission to do it. I live on my own, and, until I convince my boss to implement a bring-your-pets-to-work policy, I knew I’d be leaving someone at home all day, and I let the guilt stall me. I kept deciding that it would just have to be later, that I’d get a dog when my circumstances changed or when I had a different living situation, one that would be less worrisome. But time just kept going by, and, I can’t really explain it, all I know is that toward the end of this past year, I just decided to give myself permission to let it happen. Conversations with friends, seeing the blessing a little dog has been to my mom, allowing little connections with people that contained thoughts of hope. I let little seeds of how this might work be planted instead of pushing them away. I let them out into the light and air so they could sprout a bit. A friend said to me, “Kathy, what are you waiting for?” I couldn’t come up with a good answer anymore. So I let myself start looking.

I saw Maggie’s picture on the Humane Society website last Monday night. She had “possibility” written all over her two year-old, terrier-mix face. When I read her bio, she was described as a little anxious, a little nervous around people she doesn’t know, and in need of a little extra time to build trust. I thought “hmmmm, who does that sound like? Oh yea… me.”

I had already made another commitment for Tuesday morning, so I knew I wouldn’t be free to check into her availability until later. I looked at her sweet little face again, and whispered a little prayer. I asked God to save her for me if she was supposed to be my dog. Later that morning when I made the call, I was told that two other parties had already made appointments to meet her, so I’d need to wait a bit for the outcome. I did what I could to keep my mind off that sweet little mutt with the big brown eyes for a few hours. They called me in the early afternoon, and said if I wanted to come take a look, she was still available. I grabbed my mom and we drove to the pound.

We met in the play-room; we walked around one another and played a bit, getting a feel for it. In no time, I was scratching her belly, she was licking my hand. I looked into her brown eyes and asked her if she’d like to come home with me. When the pet-handler said that Maggie could stand to lose a few pounds, I knew I’d found my dog.

We’re figuring it out as we go along. She does not like the baby-gate that keeps her in the roomy kitchen and dining room while I’m at work. She does like 94% reduced-fat microwave popcorn. She does not like the vacuum. She does like to ride in the car. I’m getting used to having someone underfoot, being stared at and licked. She’s getting used to trusting that I will always come home after work and free her from the baby gate to romp around the house and get all the belly-scratching she wants. I left her to roam the house on Sunday when I went to St. Luke’s. She was on her own until I got back from my Sunday after-church trip to Trader Joe’s to get my groceries for the week. I got home and everything looked fine, no damage done. I made some lunch, left the door open to enjoy the springy-feeling afternoon, worked on my NY Times Sunday Crossword and listened to “A Prairie Home Companion” while Mags chewed on a doggie-treat right beside me. I could get used to this.

I turn on the news every morning while I get ready for work and sip a first cup of coffee. I catch the weather forecast to see how wet or cold it might be as I wait for the bus. This morning I saw the purple and yellow and orange of the sunrise on Clinton Street. I heard the birds chirping in the cherry blossoms that started showing off their pretty-pinks mid-February. I felt the chill of the morning air on my waking-up face.

I was walkin’ my dog.