of the neighbors a couple of houses down was afraid the dog was hurt when she heard us going in the house the other day because she sounded like she was in pain because of the panic she was in when we arrived.
Unfortunately, nothing I did seemed to help. We gave her treats on the way out the door, left the television with music on, picked her up after school last week and brought her back to the office with us for the last 2 hours of each work day, and walked her no less than 3 times every day, but she was still upset with me. I feed her twice a day as directed, brush her fur and fix her “hair” (her owners use small scrunchies and bows to pull a section of her fur up and out of her face into a fountain style which reminds me of a hairdo my mom used to create for me when I was little, and to which I had endless days of being called “fountain head” by my big brothers because I looked so adorable, I’m sure), and all three of us pet her and love on her daily, but she is still like a little lost puppy without her owners and her home. When we are out of our comfort zone, we are scared, lonely, frantic even, and unable to see things clearly.
Not having a home for my kids and I to live in together for the past three years was definitely out of my comfort zone as a mom. And even though I did the best I could with what I had to work with and for, I never felt completely at peace. There was always fear, worry, and sometimes even that panicky feeling of anxiety as each weekend I was to spend with them rolled around, and I had to figure out where to take them and how to make sure they were content and happy during out time together, and that the time we had was the best it could be since I couldn’t provide them with their own comfort zone during their times with me. They adapted well, as kids tend to do, but us older folks and animals, don’t tend to adapt as easily.
So, after a tense few days and a couple of e-mails and phone calls back and forth between the owners on vacation in the states and the caretakers of the house here on the island, I was able to take my doggie friend back to her comfort zone. She still stays with us at my home overnight, but during the day when we can’t be with her, she is where she belongs. As soon as we walked in the back door to her place yesterday, she went straight to a floor level air conditioning vent in the hallway by the bedrooms and rubbed her body back and forth across the slats, then she proceeded to go into the den and roll around on the carpet like it was an old friend. And even through all the stress of the past few days, I understand completely where she’s at. That’s how I feel every day since I’ve moved into a house again. I haven’t gotten to the point where I am taking it for granted yet. It’s still like a dream to me, and at night when I climb into bed and snuggle down in the covers while seeing myself in all the decorations and things I’ve accumulated over the years carefully arranged in the room, I sometimes giggle to myself out of pure joy. It’s like getting into your very own bed after a long trip. It just feels good to be home again. Being a mom to my boys, an educator, and a homemaker when I’m off duty is my calling, my comfort zone.
No comments:
Post a Comment