Quiet & Ollie

I am sitting at my computer. No one is barking at me; no one is biting me. I can write, read, vacuum, cook for as long as I wish and I will be undisturbed. This also means that there is a gigantic void in the house. A quiet that is not normal or natural in this place.

Ollie has a new home. Again. I think this one will stick. I got the sensation from the minute the woman walked in the house that she had no problem with Ollie's behavior. She completely ignored him until he settled down. She has a dog named Molly. Molly and Ollie got along very well. Molly is 11 years old and knows how to take care of herself around a puppy. I think this marriage is going to stick. And I am glad Ollie will have a patient mother.

This morning Ollie barked and tried to bite me for at least 2 hours, perhaps 3. It was so bad that I developed a raging headache. I took him for a walk on the beach, we went to the dump together, more beach. Didn't matter. He just wanted to bark and bark and bark. Despite this, when he left with his new mother, I cried. How many times am I going to give this child away?

I have a karma problem. How else to explain a broken marriage, multiple deaths, and investing in the only bad Bedlington on the planet?

Okay, so wipe away the tears and reinvest yourself in your home, Laura. Where are my bootstraps? I could get out the vacuum right now and right the place, but then I probably wouldn't want to make dinner. I already don't want to make dinner. But I will. It will be sesame noodles with grilled chicken and a salad with sweet and sour dressing. I'll do 2 loads of laundry and I will be able to fold them without each article being ripped out of my hands. I will unload the dishes without anybody climbing into the dishwasher. Things are looking up.

I didn't take a lot of photos of Ollie. Perhaps I knew it was a temporary love affair for us. Perhaps he was brought into my life to get me over the hurdle of loneliness. I will say, he never allowed me to feel lonely. He was my rebound relationship. We know those never work out. I will miss waking up with him. I'll miss his kisses and silly games he would play with his toys, perching them on the edge of the bed until they fell and then running after them as if they were alive. I'll miss looking at his cuteness.

I'd better start setting my alarm clock.

Another Year

I had a birthday this month. I was convinced this year would be better than last year. Time will tell but it's not looking promising. Ollie is not growing into the loving, little companion I expected him to become. His bad habits: biting, barking, and not allowing you to do anything but pay attention to him have become too much. I thought I'd find him a new home, a place where he'd get a lot of attention and exercise. So after soul searching and soul searching, I made the decision to part with him. I found him a home with a good friend which would ensure that I'd still get to see him. Three days passed and I received a woeful phone call. At the end of it I said, "So, when do you want to bring him back?" and without missing a beat my friend said, "Tomorrow!" It's Ollie's looks that save him. He is so darn cute. He also loves people, loves dogs, loves the car, and basically has many good traits. He's just too alpha for me.

For my 3 days without him, I fell in love me my home and all its prospects again. It's not settled yet. I still have boxes that I have not unpacked, mostly because I have no where to put stuff. So it's a work in progress and I enjoy that. When I woke up and Ollie was gone I thought how easy it would be to keep the house clean. No more torn toilet paper rolls, ripped NY Times, food kibbles scattered across the kitchen floor, no more stuffed animal parts with white batting rolling over the living room like tumbleweeds. But he's baack as Jack Nicholson would say.

Though it may snow tomorrow, Spring is in the air. Leaves have popped out on the hydrangea outside my office. Daffodils and crocuses are blooming; it's staying light out until 7. All these things give me hope. On the other hand, I have 4 dozen unplanted daffodil bulbs in my garage, no money to start gardening, trees that need to be removed and a host of other projects I'd like to work on. It's fun to look forward to them, but accomplishing them alone isn't so much fun.

This weekend is Passover. I will miss the Seder. People will be going dry-shod surrounded by lamb shanks, bitter herbs, and hard boiled eggs and I'll no longer singing all the songs I worked so hard to learn. I miss being an honorary Jew. I won't miss the brisket. One year I made Passover. My sister gave me what she considered the BEST recipe for brisket. I bought so much of it that you would have thought I was feeding a congregation. There were 5 of us and one was a vegetarian. After that, I never really wanted to see brisket again. But I deeply miss the charoset. I suppose I could make some, then eat it by myself as I sing Dayenu to myself or G_D.