Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Three Things I Love
This is a good meme to be tagged with just now. So, because Dr. Write says I should, here are three things I love (other than family, friends, and beverages):
1. Water. It just feels like home. My only time snorkeling, I felt like I could stay there all day. My earliest memory is of the gray foam at Kalaloch, on the Washington coast. When I saw Lake Ontario last fall, I felt that same sense of peace that the oceans give me. I even love staying in the shower far too long in the morning. The theme for my 45th birthday (mark your calendars people: March 1, 3pm, my house) is going to be Under the Sea. Or Tropical Paradise. Or something.
2. Reading. I come from a family of readers--"no reading at the table" was an actual rule for dinner, and of course we read everything in sight, from milk cartons to cereal boxes. I got lost in the Oz books, in trashy bodice rippers, in muckraking books about the counterculture. Now, I want to read magazines and blogs and websites, and chick lit and speculative fiction and Serious Literature. And the comics. And the back of the milk carton.
3. Animals. This is a family thing, too. Animals remind me to stay in the moment. I don't mean to romanticize the lives of these creatures, but I am amazed at how much they are both like and not like us, how the behaviors can be so similar, yet totally un-self-conscious. I want to get to know every cat in the neighborhood on a first-name basis, like Belle who lives around the corner, who comes running to greet me on warm evenings, rolling on the sidewalk and looking for scritchers. And the birds--twitching their heads this way and that, wiping their beaks on branches. I'm endlessly fascinated.
1. Water. It just feels like home. My only time snorkeling, I felt like I could stay there all day. My earliest memory is of the gray foam at Kalaloch, on the Washington coast. When I saw Lake Ontario last fall, I felt that same sense of peace that the oceans give me. I even love staying in the shower far too long in the morning. The theme for my 45th birthday (mark your calendars people: March 1, 3pm, my house) is going to be Under the Sea. Or Tropical Paradise. Or something.
2. Reading. I come from a family of readers--"no reading at the table" was an actual rule for dinner, and of course we read everything in sight, from milk cartons to cereal boxes. I got lost in the Oz books, in trashy bodice rippers, in muckraking books about the counterculture. Now, I want to read magazines and blogs and websites, and chick lit and speculative fiction and Serious Literature. And the comics. And the back of the milk carton.
3. Animals. This is a family thing, too. Animals remind me to stay in the moment. I don't mean to romanticize the lives of these creatures, but I am amazed at how much they are both like and not like us, how the behaviors can be so similar, yet totally un-self-conscious. I want to get to know every cat in the neighborhood on a first-name basis, like Belle who lives around the corner, who comes running to greet me on warm evenings, rolling on the sidewalk and looking for scritchers. And the birds--twitching their heads this way and that, wiping their beaks on branches. I'm endlessly fascinated.
What It's Like
Over the past several months, I've been feeling increasingly guilty--because I resented taking care of an aging dog, one who required special food, special medications, who often smelled funky because of various skin problems, who sometimes had digestive difficulties requiring major cleanups. And let's not mention the expense. On top of that, I had full responsibility for Maddie as the result of a divorce, so at times, my resentment over that split spilled over on to her. Not fair, but true.
So, now, I feel a bit relieved. Which also makes me feel guilty. But then the guilt is assuaged by the fact that this really was the best choice, and I know that, so I'll get over it.
Anyway, it's weird to come home to an empty house. The GF asked me when the last time was that I lived without a dog, and I think it was just three years, between 1989 and 1992. And during that time, I lived with cats. Lots and lots of cats. But now, the house is quiet. And I don't have to get home to care for anyone. And I don't have to get out of bed to take anyone outside.
And that's not necessarily a good thing.
So, now, I feel a bit relieved. Which also makes me feel guilty. But then the guilt is assuaged by the fact that this really was the best choice, and I know that, so I'll get over it.
Anyway, it's weird to come home to an empty house. The GF asked me when the last time was that I lived without a dog, and I think it was just three years, between 1989 and 1992. And during that time, I lived with cats. Lots and lots of cats. But now, the house is quiet. And I don't have to get home to care for anyone. And I don't have to get out of bed to take anyone outside.
And that's not necessarily a good thing.
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