Love me, love my dog

I'm taking a little break from housework, which is unusual for me—not taking a break (that's usual), but housework. I've been washing by hand some pots and bowls that have been in my sink for an incredibly long time. If I told you how long they've sat there, you wouldn't even believe it, but it would be true.

In a little less than an hour, I will drive to the Fred Meyer store in Bellingham to pick up some groceries I ordered online. This has pretty much become my standard method of grocery shopping. I pick out everything I want online, pay for it with my debit card, and schedule a time (an hour window) to pick it up, usually the next day. The nice thing is that I can take my dog with me because I just sit in my car in the specified parking lot, call the store on my cell, and they bring it out, all bagged, and put in in my trunk. They charge me less than $5 for the service.

I have not left my dog in his crate at home alone since we vacated my house more than a year ago. When we lived in a hotel, at first I took him to work with me every day. I had permission to do that for the three months it was supposed to take. After that, I took him every day to doggy day care at the Hyline Hotel for Dogs. I could not leave him in the hotel room because he has separation anxiety and would certainly have barked and howled the whole time I was gone. At Hyline, he has company, which is all he needs. It has made him less neurotic.

When I moved back into my house, I did not have the heart to resume the crate routine we used to follow, where he was in his crate for nine hours while I was away at work. So I have continued bringing him to Hyline. He likes it there. I can tell because he happily jumps out of the car and willingly walks in with his tail up. (As opposed to at the vet, where he nervously jumps out of the car, and has to be coaxed or carried into the exam area, with a droopy tail, and in fear and trembling.)

This close bond between us to some degree limits what I do. If I am going somewhere in the evening or on the weekend where dogs are not welcome, then I have to arrange extra time for him at Hyline. Their drop-off and pick-up hours are 7:00-10:00 a.m. and 3:00-6:00 p.m. So, for an evening outing I have to put him in Hyline's boarding service overnight, which means packing up his medicine and food for them to feed him.

If putting him at Hyline is not feasible, then I don't go wherever I might have otherwise. I know with my mind that putting him in his box for just an hour or two while I would go away really wouldn't do him any harm, but I can't do it. I guess I'm the one now with separation anxiety. Although I don't fear separation for myself, I just feel like I would be betraying his trust. I'm doubtless projecting something on him.



In Jane Eyre, there is this passage:

... when the embers sank to a dull red, I undressed hastily, tugging at knots and strings as I best might, and sought shelter from cold and darkness in my crib.  To this crib I always took my doll; human beings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objects of affection, I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing a faded graven image, shabby as a miniature scarecrow.  It puzzles me now to remember with what absurd sincerity I doated on this little toy, half fancying it alive and capable of sensation.  I could not sleep unless it was folded in my night-gown; and when it lay there safe and warm, I was comparatively happy, believing it to be happy likewise.

I had the same thing when I was a girl, in that I would sleep with a stuffed Lassie dog and my teddy bear, and, when I had to get up and go to school, I would tuck them back into bed so that at least they could stay warm and secure. I don't say that I had a "dearth of worthier objects of affection," but it was my personality to form an emotional attachment even to inanimate objects. (That's part of why it's hard to de-clutter.)

With my living dog, he really does have feelings and emotions (shut up, Descartes), and it's slightly more reasonable to feel happy because I believe him "to be happy likewise." Besides, in the nature of things, this expense and trouble for my dog won't go on terribly long. I believe he is 14 years old now. He doesn't show too many signs of debility, except that he can't hear or see very well. You can see that he has cataracts by the milky quality of his eyes. He sleeps more soundly, and for longer periods than he used to. And he has occasionally a day or two of illness, related either to his liver (a fairly recent problem for which he takes a daily pill) or pancreatitis (something he's had chronically almost since I got him). His illness generally manifests just as a droopy and listless demeanor (and sometimes flatulence). But on his good days, which are in the majority, he still shows a lot of pep, especially when it's time for a walk or a meal.

When justifying the expense and bother of daycare and boarding for my dog, I say that some people have expensive hobbies like skiing or boating. My expensive hobby is keeping a little dog happy.