The Poodle took to barking early this morning. It’s not a usual thing for him to do. In fact, he’s usually curled tight into a ball, sound asleep in his bed, so much so that I literally have to pry him out of it for his morning walk. His carrying on so early in the morning brought me back to Valentine’s day just weeks ago. On that morning a hard knock on the door just after sunrise would be the reason The Poodle bolted from his cozy spot barking like crazy as his nearly twelve year-old legs tumbled the rest of him down the stairs. It’s a wonder he didn’t wind up at the vet’s office.
I had been making my bed before the silence of the morning was interrupted. For heaven’s sake…who could that be? I wondered as I looked at my watch. Making my way down the stairs I spy, through a window by the door, the reason for The Poodle’s exuberant barking….
Ah…but who else! It’s Alexandre-the-Greatest.
I opened the door to a beaming smile and my nephew presenting me with a delicate orange rose surrounded by baby’s breath followed by a hug that surely shook the earth….at least, it shook mine. Love poured out of this terrific young soul and for that brief moment in time my entire being was in the pure awe and enjoyment of it.
On this morning however, there was no knocking at the door. In fact, all was quiet on the western front as it were. Espresso in hand, I looked everywhere for a reason for the harsh break of my usual morning calm. I’ve no idea what got my Poodle love into such a tizzy; there weren’t dogs barking in the ‘hood nor was the paper being delivered. I could have yelled at him to stop, as I have done on more than one occasion out of head-splitting frustration. His bark is loud and deep for a medium sized boy! But on this morning I held my tongue and instead, issued soothing hushes followed by my whispering in his ear: Thank-you…um…for bringing whatever that was to my attention.”
No…I cannot be undone by such deafening barking. I know this is just a moment in time….an annoying one to be sure, but one moment all the same.
You see, I’d just read a faithful blogger’s post about the passing of her own Poodle-love and it knocked my heart into my gut. Her Poodle-love Sam was the heart and soul of her writings…of her life…and as a volunteer service pooch, it was clear Sam brought joy to a wide community of folks, from those in hospital to those living around the block. Hearing of someone losing their four-legged love naturally makes one think of the rainbow bridge that looms on the horizon for their pet. Yes, it is ever on my mind even as I struggle not to live in fear of that inevitable day.
As I walked The Poodle later in the morning the sun was struggling to break free of clouds. I hurried faster than usual to keep warm, much to The Poodle’s dismay. As I reached the bottom of the hill, right at the lake, I stopped to see if our resident beaver was anywhere to be seen. “Hmm….not today,” I say to The Poodle. A wisp of melancholy welled up inside of me as I stood watching the ducks glide effortlessly through mud-colored water. I thought of Poodle Sam and even my California friend who gave wings to my journey into Poodle love. Through earbuds, I was listening to David Darling’s Solitude— and of course my thoughts took a unexpected turn down a long ago path–as if to match the gloomy sky–and so then I was stuck in the past….
Many years ago, as I struggled with the end of a marriage I went to an astrologer to have my chart done. Providing only my birth date, birth place and time I was hopeful that she could give me a scintilla of understanding as to what the hell was happening with my life and why. When I met with her weeks later for the reading, she told me a lot of things– which for the most part were spot on–including something that affected me so viscerally that to this day it still bubbles to the surface every now and then (like today) and not in necessarily in a good way.
“You are crucified when it comes to love.” It is not meant to be….
It made sense to me given my childhood and a host of other things.
As much as I’d ruminate on that for years afterwards–and believe it’s truth when stuck in my own pity party over one thing or another–I can, in this decade of my sixties, believe otherwise. Whew….Isn’t that lovely! How could I not with this Poodle happily trotting, albeit slowly, by my side! And, I’d be blind not to see love in the dried remnants of an orange rose …or even in the eyes of my husband after tense moments in a day that compels him to say “you are my home.” I could go on and on kind reader, but I’m sure you’d be bored silly. Let’s just say that in moments of doubt, sadness or fear…in moments when heart and soul are a tangled mess on contemplating life without hugs and goofy smiles…orange roses and bottles of red wine…or poodle love and sister hugs…and everything else too numerous to name — I remain humble and grateful that, contrary to anything written in the stars, love just is. And, yes….I am unabashedly greedy for more in whatever nuance comes my way.
There is bliss in that.