Such an Alice Day

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

Lewis Carroll

(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

If that isn't one of the best examples of 'waxing poetic'...  Sometimes we just need the time to step back, relax, and enjoy.  The days are too short to mess with things out of our control. 

I give myself very good advice, But I very seldom follow it.

Such an Alice day today.  I wonder why.  Is it because I'm waiting to hear if ANY of the castings I've gone to are going to come through?  It's as if the phone only rings to tease me.  It's hardly ever from someone I want to hear from, i.e. a job.  And it's not only for a job.  I have some requests out there too.  I know things happen in their own time, and it's usually the best time.  I just wish it would happen in my time.  "Just be", Whopper would say.  "Just be".

AAAAAH....

My day has been one of total frustation.  2 steps forward, 1 step back.  Yes, I suppose you could say I am making progress...But...

Wandering...

I am here at work looking forward to the clock ticking towards my eventual leaving.  Ah, the joy of leaving someplace that you really don't want to be.  It's not that I hate my job.  On the contrary.  This is probably the best place for me to work, given my temperament.  I really don't answer to anyone.  And I can come and go at leisure.  I have my responsibilities.  And I more than meet them.  So why do I look so forward to leaving this place ?  Because it means that I can go out and do all the crazy things I love to do.  My soul is not that of an office-dweller.  I have wander-lust.

I think that's why I never really got upset with Whopper when he would wander off.  He couldn't stay cooped up at home either.  He loved to wander.  Sometimes he'd bring home friends.  Then we'd have to find their owner.  But that was fun, too.  He always came home.  Except for the last time.

It was New Jersey and Dennis and I were in the midst of packing the house to move back to Florida.  My father had come up to help us with the move and while they were loading the moving truck with furniture, Whopper walked out.  When I came home and asked where he was, no one knew.  I waited all night for him.  He didn't come home.  We were leaving the next day and before we left, I scoured the neighborhood and made the neighbors swear they would call if they found him.  But they never called.

I truly believe that Whopper knew how sick and old he was and knew that he would never survive another move.  He'd been through all of our others.  I guess he wasn't wiling to go through another.  I believe he left...no looking back...for all of us.  Knowing that he would only get sicker and less able to take care of himself. 

I hate when anyone is noble like that.  To deny us the chance to take care of someone we love to the very end.  Whopper was my friend and companion and very much like a beloved child.  And I couldn't say good-bye. 

I think that's why I get so upset with my parents when they give me that same speech.  "We don't want to be a burden, we just want our own place, etc.".  I have to respect their wishes.  But it doesn't mean I have to like it.

I Hate Waiting

I hate waiting.    When I want to do something, I want to do it NOW.  Not later. NOW.  I've never been very good at waiting.  I'm usually early to everything.  I don't understand people who think it's alright to be late.  Even the "fashionably" late set.  I don't get them. 
Whopper was the same way.  Whenever it was time to go out, especially if I piddled around getting things together before we left, he would be shaking in anxiety driven ecstasy.  The longer I took, the more he'd shake and the louder his protests.  They would start out as little whimpers ratcheting up to full-throated barks if I took too long.  So much for "relax and just be".  Not when he wanted something.

Walk Away

I am at work.  Grinding through, as all computer laborers do.  Now, I shouldn't complain.  After all, I could be some other kind of laborer..ditch digger, bathroom attendant, etc.  The people who do REAL work.  Not some button pushing whiz-kid like myself.  I have it quite easy compared to most.  But still..I would rather be out there creating/performing. 

When Whopper had had enough of the boring, he would simply walk away.  No questions, no worries, no "hey, I'm leaving, I'll see you in a few hours."  Nope, just walk away.  And I mean walk away.  Not even a look over his shoulder to see if we even noticed he was going.  If we stopped him, fine, then he'd turn around and come back.  If not...

Sometimes this walking away entailed climbing over the fence, which he could scale quite adeptly.  Or just walking out an open door.  He did that a lot.  But no rush.  Just walk away.

I find I do that, too.  When I can't deal with the boring any longer, I walk away, too.  No hurries, no rush, no guilt.  If they stop me, fine.  If not... 

Of Courage and Catapults

I built a trebuchet.  No, not a full-scale trebuchet.  Geez, that would've taken a construction space the size of a football field.  No, mine is a much smaller model, about 3 feet tall when the arm is fully upright.    Why a trebuchet, you may ask?  Well...

Back in the 90s, when rollerblading was the fad du jour 

 (and, no I don't have any pictures of me in my cute little spandex rollerblading outfit, geez)

I would take the dogs, Whopper (on the left) and Goober (on the right), for runs through the local park, me on the blades, them on feet.  And what feet they had.  Little black blurs is what they were, Whopper in the lead, Goober right behind.  And what noses they had...running here, there and everywhere.  Always curious, always adventurous, always fearless.  By watching them run, they led me to

• a dairy on the other side of the park fence,
• a nest of burrowing owls,
• squirrels who needed the exercise of being chased,
• new people who loved the serenity of Whopper and the joy of Goober

...and college kids taking target practice with their catapults!  It was amazing.  A bunch of engineering students had built some pretty good-sized working catapults, and were taking turns trying to hit a dummy in a tower with a head of lettuce.  We were mesmerized by the sight and thrilled by the competitive effort.  It was always a kick to see them every time we went to the park. 

One afternoon, my husband decided to join us at the park.  As we were driving there, Whopper and Goober began to get very excited in anticipation.  They began yelping and scurrying in the back seat.  My husband, ever the stick in the mud, said "Geez, what's wrong with them.  Can't you keep them quiet?"  To which I replied, "Look, WE invited YOU to share OUR day."  "Share our day?  What am I, an uncle or something?"  He just didn't get it.

When we got out of the car, we began our run.  First, the cows by the dairy. Then, the owls.  The squirrels were always being chased, and the people and children always stopped to say hello to Whopper, Goober and me.  Finally, as we came to an open clearing, there they were...the catapults!  My husband dropped his jaw.  I don't think he was expecting THAT as part of his day.  Whopper and Goober bounded up to the kids who had, by this time, unofficially adopted them.  We were mesmerized again.  Just watching them compete was enough to make me want a catapult of my own.  And now I have one.  And it works !!!

Having two happy, rambunctious dogs led me to something that I would not have experienced without their fearlessness and their total trust that their nose would lead them to something grand.  I think that's something we need to remember.  Fear is the number one cause of fear.  With it, we never try, we never learn, we never grow.

Now I know there are some of you out there screeching "OMG, she doesn't have her dogs on a leash !!!  What a menace to society !!!"  I know.  I heard the same talk from my husband.  And the talk is right.  But when I saw them running, having a grand time, it would have killed me to restrict them.  But we had an incident.

My dogs are happy, friendly, curious dogs.  But not all dogs are like that.  As I was roller-blading along, Goober got too close to a Husky who, incidentally, was on a leash.  The Husky opened its jaws and grabbed Goober by the head and began to shake.  Out of nowhere, Whopper flew in like a bat out of hell and clamped down on the Husky's jaw until he dropped Goober.  Jaws, teeth, fur, blood flew until the other owner and I pulled them apart.  Let me put this into perspective

Whopper - terrier mix - small dog

Goober - border collie mix - small dog

Husky - big dog

I'm looking at the blood and wondering where it came from and saw that Whopper had a small piece of his ear, the tip missing.  And the blood gushed with every beat of his heart.  I grabbed Whopper, leashed Goober, and raced to the Emergency Animal Hospital.  Goober came home with me, but Whopper had to stay overnight.

When I picked him up the next day, he had a bandage around his head.  Stitches, cuts and bruises.  Looking like every bit the hero, I seriously thought about getting him a little medal to pin to his collar.  "For services rendered in the defense of a comrade's life, without thought for his own."  That's what the vet said.  He said he'd never heard of anything like this before.  Way to go Whopper. 

Can we honestly say we would do the same thing for a friend ?  A family member ?  A child ?  I'd like to hope that I'd have some of Whopper's courage.