A New Purpose for a New Year
I fell madly in love on Christmas Eve. Here’s what happened.
My husband and son walked into the house carrying a huge grass basket, singing we wish you a Merry Christmas at the top of their lungs. Inside the basket? Two eight-week-old Jack Russell Terrier puppies. They were, of course, trying to charm with every cuteness they could muster. In my lap, they both jumped for my face and I got a proper puppy tongue cleaning. My shocked heart melted and, well, it was love at first lick.
You may be thinking: why two JRTs? And puppies? So much time. So much patience.
Yes, so worth it.
The backstory: once upon a time I had Sarah and Sammy, both also JRTs. Sarah came to us as a puppy about 4 months old. Sammy, a rescue, arrived a few years later as an abandoned two year old with a leg that was almost severed. Animal Control was holding him for the requisite 5 days to see if someone claimed him, then were going to put him down. (Since then, Animal Control has become a pro-active no-kill shelter.) Sammy was deemed unadoptable because of his injured leg, which was being kept clean and cared for. My housekeeper had been looking for her daughter’s missing cat when she walked past Sammy and looked into his sad eyes. She called me and told me about the adorable Jack who was on death row. I went straight down and fell in love with his pitiful little face and committed to adoption if no one claimed him.
No one did, which I later found surprising. Sammy was fully trained in all commands and would not even think about going potty in the house. Clearly, someone had spent time with this fine boy. He was also intact, which made me think he may have been planned for breeding.
When Sammy came to us, Sarah was already three years old. She accepted him although they never really bonded. Sarah was a loving companion, in tune to our wishes and well-melded into our household with me, my husband, and our son. When Sammy developed Cushing’s disease, and later began having seizures from a brain tumor, Sarah tolerated his growing belligerence. The day we put him down, she sniffed his body closely and turned away. We did not know at the time that she was coming down with doggie Alzheimer’s. Sarah was a week away from her 18th birthday when she passed in April 2019.
I began grieving. Once a dog wraps around your heart, he or she will be there forever. And I had two. I missed them terribly. My husband and I discussed holding off on getting another dog; we had plans to travel and pursue our individual creative interests now that we had sold our business and were “retired.” Half of our dreams came true. I was able to pursue writing and Jay pursued his music during the long, lonely period that was dominated by COVID. When we finally emerged, only to be hit by waves of variants and still not wanting to travel, I had started sharing my wishes for a dog again.
I guess my husband was listening. When someone asks him what he was thinking in getting two uber-active puppies in our golden years, he will answer that he had a “momentary lapse of sanity.” I agree. But I’m also glad. The challenges of raising these highly intelligent and fearless dogs gave me a renewed purpose.
Leading up to the holidays I had been working on an essay for a themed anthology from Unleash Press. The theme was WORK. My take for the publication piece was to dig into the etymology of the word and see how the various meanings relate to my feelings and experiences about work. I discovered something, an “ah ha” moment, if you will. As I recounted my earliest job as a car hop at the age of fifteen, I pondered on the satisfaction I received from this simple service job. And realized work as PURPOSE. A car hop job gave a fifteen-year-old her own money and the freedom that comes with feeling self-sufficient. This feeling never left, and all the subsequent jobs I had were welcomed, even though some were mind-numbing and others overly stressful.
No matter. Each work obligation had something to teach me, experiences that built on the foundation I laid at the age of fifteen. Of having a set purpose each day to do my best. Even, or especially, when I later began my own company. The exhaustion at the end of the day was a good one, filled with satisfaction.
And so it will be with Lizzie and Ozzie. Right now I’ll do my best with them, so they can grow up safe and happy. One day I may think with fondness about the piddles on my hardwood floors, the scattered shoes and socks, the chases up and down the hallways. My good rugs have been taken up and stored for now. Until they are housebroken, the dogs spend time in a large pen in my laundry/mud room, the sound of puppy growls and whimpers as they tussle with each other. Every hour or so I take them outside so they can chase each other in the yard. I have contacted a trainer. New routines are being established. When they settle in at dusk, I sink into a chair and hope I’ve done my best for them.
Wishing you all a fulfilling 2023.
