Travels with Gracie: Pondering a Dog’s Life
I sit down to work on my next blog post in the series “Travels with Gracie.”
Gracie pants by my side but I am distracted – my basement is flooded and the septic system fixers are here.
Perhaps I am living the dog days ofsummer? Having a dog day afternoon? A dogs’ life…in people years? Feeling droopy and dog-eared myself, I am flailing and failing to focus my thoughts.
My laptop normally sits atop a 24 year old copy of Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations. I slide the beefy reference tome from under my old MacBook Pro and learn that Bartlett’s first name was “John.” And what does John Bartlett have to say about dogs? Doggone to dog gone? I turn to the index at the back, tracing my finger down through the letter D which stretches from “dogs to doom” … Damn, we don’t need any more doom, today! Let’s focus on what’s in between. First, a Bartlett’s tidbit …dog references outnumber those of cats by 3 to 1!
From his initial canine reference “absolutely unselfish friend” !!! — to Bartlett’s finale entry… “Terrible for an old woman to outlive her dog.” — I am captivated.
Who’s been travelling with whom on this journey? For the longest time my ego assumed it was my story that provided Gracie a supporting role. From the first day we met, I knew we would travel together through life.
The drive from Westport to the breeder in New Hampshire promised to be long. I was meeting the same beloved breeder many old friends and their families --all cocker spaniel lovers recommended. I told them, “That’s nice, but my mom had a cocker and I’m ready for a BIG dog!” I had retired from a workaholic lifestyle. Had waited so long for a dog of my own. Lived on my own. I needed a BIG dog! But I would make a date to visit with the breeder, to be polite and then get on with my “big dog” plan.
Suddenly, as I drove, the day turned horrible. It was the day of the Las Vegas shooting on Oct 1, 2017. 58 dead, nearly 500 injured. I could barely see through tears as I listened to the news. I was heartbroken for everyone and everything. Less than a decade ago, I had started work at a Museum in DC the very same day a security guard was murdered at the entrance. Those memories and the flood of news since has made my heart pound with fear - for everyone and everything I care about in this country.
Who was I to think that I could take care of a puppy? How could I keep anything or anyone I love safe? I was hot from the long drive, overwhelmed, and came within seconds of cancelling my appointment with the breeder. But suddenly the entrance to the kennel’s elusive driveway loomed large. Surrendering to the moment, I continued up the drive. My gravel-crunching arrival set off a cacophony of spaniel barking and mayhem inside the kennel. The breeder emerged in shadow against a perfectly azure sky. A black curly puppy pranced neatly by her side. I learned that the pup would be sadly retiring from the showdog circuit because she could not be bred. Awww. In an instant I took the side of this little underdog, and lost interest in all of my big dog arguments.
Because, there she was. Black and tan. A cocker. Ears perked, brown eyes alert and a dog grin that said, ‘I’ve been waiting just for you!” I squatted. We made eye contact. The breeder came back from her office with “Dart’s” paperwork and stood some distance away watching us. I leaned over to the puppy’s ear and said. “I will call you Gracie, OK? Because the truth is, we will all need a little more grace in our lives today.”
And, that’s how it started - 9 years ago. I have never looked back. I am grateful for this Grace in my life each day. It’s no secret that it’s been a rough couple of years for Gracie and me. Lung cancer and open heart surgery and lots of WTF’s from me. Surgeries, tests, follow-up surgeries and even more tests. I am a tiny footsoldier in a relentless trudge of the aging unwell.
In the last two years, days and sometimes weeks in the hospital meant lots of separation and upheaval for Gracie, too.
I am blessed to have friends with dogs who loved and welcomed Gracie when we had to be apart. And I am so grateful to the friends and neighbors who called, visited and stayed with me and Gracie during the long weeks of recovery at home - so many, my daughter kept a spreadsheet of who was coming and going after my son returned to his own family in Montana.
It’s been six months since surgery and my life with Gracie is entering a new normal. Each day we traipse around the garden to see what’s new and later while I’m writing, Gracie sits on my feet.
During the scariest of times we were “dependent upon the kindness of strangers” (me) and friends (Gracie). I have discovered a streak of Blanch DuBois running through us both. And my Blanche draws me closer to Tennessee Willliams by nature and also by chance.
I turn back to Bartlett’s canine quotations and reread that last awful Tennesee Williams quote “Terrible for an old woman to outlive her dogs.” Yes, but it won’t be for us. Gracie and I have chosen to live fully and happily together in all the spaces in between.
