Life with Lassie

If you want to watch football all day Sunday, she’s cool with it, and often will lay right by your side. She never scolds you at the dinner table, and actually encourages sloppy eating habits. And instead of turning her back when you are upset with her, she comes right over and nuzzles until you break into a smile.

Teddie hasn’t completely replaced Audrey since she moved down to Florida, but she has eased the lonely days between our visits. Audrey was always sad to see me go and excited when I returned to her, but Teddie’s eyes suggest her heart breaks every time I pull out of the driveway, and she risks stroke from excitement once I return. Sometimes I can’t figure out why she follows me everywhere I go, until she jumps up and grabs the straggling Cheeto clinging to my clothes.

A puppy dog is truly one of life’s pleasures, and she has made the often perilous transition back home with the parents nice and easy for me. She’s my buddy when I’m bored, a smile waiting to happen when I’m sad, and a constant source of entertainment as she does one funny thing after another. With fall whipping through the trees, there were downed limbs everywhere today, and of course, Teddie had to sniff each one. As we rounded the corner for home, there was a relatively delicate branch that she easily could hold in her mouth if not for its great length, which was nearly three times hers. Undeterred, she gripped it in her mouth and lugged it the block all the way home, before securing it in the front yard for her next walk. While it was frustrating to have to stop every six feet so she could readjust the behemoth in order to keep toting it, I could not help but laugh at the determination and utter joy that was clear on her scruffy face.

Ah, but her walks are fret with peril, for man’s best friend really becomes friend’s best man as she hops from tree to tree, sniffing each passing leaf and standing at attention with any passing sound. The world is her toilet, and she seems determined to mark every square inch. No spot is good enough for her excrement until she has thoroughly inspected the rest of the neighborhood, and even when she finds a stretch she likes, she paces back and forth for minutes on end before squatting, and giving me the dubious duty of cleaning up after her. And humans are the superior race.

She is a daily reminder of that age old economics lesson learned some six years ago; “No such thing as a free lunch.” That smiling face with the eyes that could stop a murdering rampage and a tongue to tickle the coldest of hearts makes you work for each of her bowel movements. And when she’s done, she gives you a look as if to say, “Don’t forget to get that, and make it snappy, I want to get home to eat.”

My girl has gone so that I may only see her once a month, the rejections roll in faster than I can often stand and I’m back under my parents’ roof and rules. Many have wondered why I wasn’t outraged when Audrey moved south for her job rather than taking one closer to me; the pity-filled glances and gentle reassurances of “you’ll find something” are frequent companions to my conversations, and my Cinderella act of washing the floors, painting the walls and preparing dinner each night will soon get old.

But through it all the puppy dog reminds me. Audrey is chasing her dream, and, if the roles were reversed, forcing me to make the difficult decision to move away, would I not have wanted her support? It makes life more difficult, but no relationship is complete without a sacrifice or two. I have taken on the role of a heavy-weight prize fighter, each rejection serving as a cross to my face and pride, but I must stand tall and wait for the ringing of the bell before I can raise my arms in victory. And thank God for my parents, who have the means to help me while I’m unemployed, after putting me through school. The least I can do is clean the cobwebs and make some chicken.

And here she comes, as if her ears were ringing, my puppy dog, life’s great metaphor: you still must walk around the block before you can reap your reward.