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.