Home Sweet Home
When I started this blog, I figured this would be a log of our journeys throughout the city with our furbabies. Then life happened, and a lot of what we've been doing lately has been pretty close to home or not dog friendly (we took Baby H for his year one photo shoot at the Phipps Conservatory, but the dogs sadly could not come). We had planned on taking them pumpkin picking, but the place we went to is a working farm with dogs and horses, so they ask visitors not to bring their own. So I've begun to feel that the poor dogs needed a special trip just for them, but this was not the weekend for it. I had been away on business since Wednesday and got home around 2:00 Saturday morning, and knew that this was the scene that was going to be waiting for me when the sun came up.
Ah, fall in the northeast. Of all the things I missed about living north, the back breaking task of bagging leaves was not one of them.
But, anyway, back to the point: what you realize is that the dogs don't care about the fact that they didn't get a fantastic adventure around town. They romped in the leaves, chased sticks, barked at the neighbor dogs to entice them to come play, and in general enjoyed the crisp, sunny day. Then they came in and cuddled with me for a nap, and then curled up on the couch with me later to watch a riveting hockey game. If they could talk, I'm pretty sure they'd tell you they had a fantastic day.
I read an article by PETA once that has stayed with me. I don't always read their stuff because their radical viewpoints leave no room for gray, and no one is perfect. But this one was about how dogs handle absences from their owners. In typical PETA fashion, it deemed them Bad. But it made some valid points. For dogs, with their relatively short lifespans, a two week vacation away from their human family feels like forever, particularly since they don't have the ability to understand where we've gone and trust that we're coming back.
I think I read the article looking for tips on how to help Cheyenne, my husky mix, because she was definitely traumatized whenever I walked out the door. We had been through a lot together, she and I, and I had periods where I worked from home, which she loved, but other times where I had to go in to the office. She would literally go into my closet and lay on top of my shoes to try and prevent me from getting ready. God forbid that I pull out a suitcase, because she knew what that meant. The article didn't really help me with tips or tricks - it just made me feel bad about myself, but I also have a living to make, and that's really the only reason I travel these days.
Once upon a time, like a lot of us, I dreamed of being "important enough" within an organization to be a) included in meetings and b) asked to travel. Then that time comes and for a brief while it's sort of heady stuff, and then you realize that it's actually hard and complicated to be away from not only your normal work duties (because, trust me, they'll all be waiting for you when you get back), and your family. The furry and not-so-furry ones. But the furry ones in particular because, PETA's right, they don't get it. They just know you're gone. And they're sad about it.
Cheyenne waits for us now at the Rainbow Bridge, but Geddy knows what a suitcase portends. And as soon as I pulled it out, he began staring at it with this pitiful look. Sirius was blissfully ignorant - we've never been apart since he joined us. Rooney rolls with the punches pretty well, and doesn't seem to mind any hubbub around - she's a Daddy's girl though, so we'll see what happens when my husband starts packing for his business trip this next week. But once I left, they all figured it out and didn't like it.
I had shut my office door to keep the cat from wreaking too much havoc in there and they all seemed to think I had holed myself up for some reason. My daughter was sending me texts that they were just standing at the office door listening for me. She told me she had to go and get Sirius to come down for dinner, because he was camped out outside the door crying. That broke my heart.
But, I'm home - safe and sound - we're about to watch the Steelers. Rooney's on the couch with me. Geddy at our feet, and Sirius is splitting the difference at the foot of the stairs, where Baby H has just gone up for nap time. All is well. They are once more happy and fulfilled. They didn't care that they didn't leave the property for any adventures this weekend.
I have to travel for my job occasionally - the dogs are always in good hands when I do. My husband and I always coordinate so neither is gone at the same time. But the moral to the story of this weekend is: dogs might enjoy outings and love their exercise and meeting new dogs and people, but at the end of the day, what they really want is our company. I plan on giving them an afternoon full of it!
Ah, fall in the northeast. Of all the things I missed about living north, the back breaking task of bagging leaves was not one of them.
But, anyway, back to the point: what you realize is that the dogs don't care about the fact that they didn't get a fantastic adventure around town. They romped in the leaves, chased sticks, barked at the neighbor dogs to entice them to come play, and in general enjoyed the crisp, sunny day. Then they came in and cuddled with me for a nap, and then curled up on the couch with me later to watch a riveting hockey game. If they could talk, I'm pretty sure they'd tell you they had a fantastic day.
I read an article by PETA once that has stayed with me. I don't always read their stuff because their radical viewpoints leave no room for gray, and no one is perfect. But this one was about how dogs handle absences from their owners. In typical PETA fashion, it deemed them Bad. But it made some valid points. For dogs, with their relatively short lifespans, a two week vacation away from their human family feels like forever, particularly since they don't have the ability to understand where we've gone and trust that we're coming back.
I think I read the article looking for tips on how to help Cheyenne, my husky mix, because she was definitely traumatized whenever I walked out the door. We had been through a lot together, she and I, and I had periods where I worked from home, which she loved, but other times where I had to go in to the office. She would literally go into my closet and lay on top of my shoes to try and prevent me from getting ready. God forbid that I pull out a suitcase, because she knew what that meant. The article didn't really help me with tips or tricks - it just made me feel bad about myself, but I also have a living to make, and that's really the only reason I travel these days.
Once upon a time, like a lot of us, I dreamed of being "important enough" within an organization to be a) included in meetings and b) asked to travel. Then that time comes and for a brief while it's sort of heady stuff, and then you realize that it's actually hard and complicated to be away from not only your normal work duties (because, trust me, they'll all be waiting for you when you get back), and your family. The furry and not-so-furry ones. But the furry ones in particular because, PETA's right, they don't get it. They just know you're gone. And they're sad about it.
Cheyenne waits for us now at the Rainbow Bridge, but Geddy knows what a suitcase portends. And as soon as I pulled it out, he began staring at it with this pitiful look. Sirius was blissfully ignorant - we've never been apart since he joined us. Rooney rolls with the punches pretty well, and doesn't seem to mind any hubbub around - she's a Daddy's girl though, so we'll see what happens when my husband starts packing for his business trip this next week. But once I left, they all figured it out and didn't like it.
But, I'm home - safe and sound - we're about to watch the Steelers. Rooney's on the couch with me. Geddy at our feet, and Sirius is splitting the difference at the foot of the stairs, where Baby H has just gone up for nap time. All is well. They are once more happy and fulfilled. They didn't care that they didn't leave the property for any adventures this weekend.
I have to travel for my job occasionally - the dogs are always in good hands when I do. My husband and I always coordinate so neither is gone at the same time. But the moral to the story of this weekend is: dogs might enjoy outings and love their exercise and meeting new dogs and people, but at the end of the day, what they really want is our company. I plan on giving them an afternoon full of it!
There is no happier soul on Earth than a dog when we return home. They don't need anything more than us because to them we are the best thing in the word
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