“Looks like your dog is walking you”. Harmless neighborhood remark. One I hear often, from many, as my dog drags me around the block.
Man, that comment absolutely ruffles my fur. I feel it start at the base of my spine, the hairs raising, right up to a lip curl, revealing fangs. Who knew I had ’em?
No. neighbor. You are wrong. The thing that has me by the neck, that is dragging me to and fro, threatening to pull me flat on my face on the icy sidewalk, is grief. And right now, I hate it. I resent it. And I really resent comments that refer to my dog training abilities.
But if you want to keep it literal, yes, you are right, my dog is walking me. Why? Because both my husband and dad died last year, and guess what? I haven’t had the time or energy to work on dog obedience. Carry treats in my pocket? I can’t even remember to wear gloves. (Not to mention the dog has chewed the fingers off of most of them. )
I know you are just trying to be funny. But really. Stop for a moment. Go ahead…ask yourself the question. What would you be doing if you were me? Would you even get out of bed? Would you still shovel your walk, shovel other people’s walks, take out your garbage? Did you know that I actually pick up other people’s dog shit, that they have “accidentally” left behind in the neighborhood? Is that something you would do, if your spouse had died? Would you still walk your dog several times a day, through tears and tiredness? Would you get up and go to work, like I do? Returning home to your husband’s ashes every night? Not dinner. Dust.
You ask what I have been doing, how I have been spending my time. Well, if you really want to know, I’m still in purgatory. Trying to get to the “other side”. No, not heaven. The other side: life. The “real world”, where people are happy, having family meals, walking their dog, together as we did, and hugging their husbands. I am suspended by memories and dreams of such a place, and spend my time trying to make it through each day. No one from the real world has offered to walk this grief puppy with me. To really try and understand what it has been like. And I don’t blame them. Who has time? It’s not their loss, or life. It’s mine. And it’s lonely.
Yes. I meet with a therapist. I participate in on-line communities. And I go to support groups. The only places where people seem to understand. But it’s not exactly a party. It’s hard, heart work. And while helpful, it’s full of other “walking wounded” like me. Do you think it would be painful to sit with me a little, and listen to my story? That’s what I’m doing when I go to support groups: listening to others talk about death, sickness, accidents, heart attacks, sudden losses, long term illnesses. That is how I am spending my time. I’d like to do other things, like learn archery, or sing in a choir, or take my dog to more obedience classes, but I am not there yet. I am still stuck in a gray middle-ground. Just trying to get myself, and my dog, around the block. And last time I looked, there was more dog food in the cupboard than people food. She seems to be faring better than I am.
This is my reality. Where I currently live. I am thankful for the good things, and that is really what I would like to be writing about. Not going on and on like a broken record. But I am still weak. Being pulled round and round in the deep grooves of my losses. I am in a place where grief is still doing the walking. Grief is doing the talking. So, if you don’t have something nice to say…
…or a hug to give, this puppy might bite.
P.S. I made it through the Starbucks drive-thru this morning without incident. I treated myself and the people behind me. Not to get thanks, to give thanks, an offering to the real world, in hopes that I will make it back.
P.P.S. A kind person, who I believe is a blog follower, also sent me a Starbucks e-gift card. So incredibly thoughtful. Amazing. Thank you, and also to those who have chosen to weather this week with me. I can feel the storm receding.
bedraggled & kicking 
I really hate the questions about how I’m spending my time. It seems so judgmental and, like you’re suggesting, I seriously doubt they’d want a ‘real’ answer. But the judgmental part is probably just my imagination working overtime. Most people mean well. Still hurts though.
If you ever get to a pet supply store with your dog, they sell anti-pull harnesses that do wonders for a dog that likes to pull on their walks. It made a huge difference for Levi.
Good advice. Thank you! I actually have a harness, but haven’t used it in so long I forgot I had it. Time to pull it out!
I know all about the weight of grief having lost my mom to pancreatic cancer. I hope things get better for you. Take care.
Kathy, thank you for your on-going support and kind words. I appreciate it.
People and their idiotic comments…forgive them they just don’t know what hell can look on a person who has gone through what you have. Ignore them because they are really unimportant. To be honest while reading your post about the dog dragging you, knowing EXACTLY what you’re talking about, the lack of energy and maybe wherewith all to pull the dog (life) back, I thought woman! put on some roller skates! The dog can pull YOU along and you can give “them” all the impression its deliberate! It might even be a little fun for you too, who knows? But it will stop the negative behind “sure looks like you’re dog is walking you” . Baby steps, right?
I have those dog harnesses, too. They saved my back, what with 200 lbs. of dog pulling me in different directions.
yep, I’m a card carrying member of “my dog walks me” club. And you know, there are bigger problems in the world than a badly behaved lab mix. I lost my mom over a year ago, and still haven’t had the time or energy to work on obedience. We just have to keep walking.
…and by supporting each other, we walk together.
I wish I could walk your dog with you.
Aw, thanks! We’d certainly have things to talk about 🙂
Ah yes, the dog. The dog that is rubbing his face on the carpet right now after eating the breakfast that he forced me to give him to stop his incessant barking!!! The dog that barked at me to get up and take him out this morning when I wanted to stay in bed. And I guess the dog that has forced me get up every day and face reality since the worst day of my life almost five years ago. I guess that’s the reason he came into my life… Who knew I would need him so much to cry on, yell at, hold (when he lets me) and be there in the dark house when I come home at the end of the day? He is so high maintenance!!!! But I don’t know what I would do without him (except have cleaner carpeting). Take care my friend! The walk is so hard to take by yourself.
You are so right…our little buddies are there to greet us. The house is not as empty. My walks around the block are not by myself. Even if she is yanking me around the block, it’s better than nothing. I need to give the little dog some thanks. And you know, at least the neighbors ask, or say something. They could completely ignore me and my greasy hair and wild pooch. Perspective, right? Sometimes grief just drops such a “stink-bomb” over my outlook.
When I was growing up, we went skiing all the time. Sometimes even in crappy weather, or snow conditions that were aptly named “Cascade Crud”, and my dad always used to say, “It beats sitting at home”. That’s what I need to tell myself when I am being pulled around the block. Oh, and don’t slip! Hugs to you and Max, the little rascal!
I wish I could walk the dog with you…or share a cup of coffee….keep fighting through the gray my friend. You’ll get there. Eventually.