Conquering Vertigo

a mommy moment?

The tears began once we were back outside by the car.
Richard hugged me, laughing in the nicest way.
I buried my face in his shirt and he said, "Are we having a mommy moment?"

Of a sort, yes, we were.

***

Richard and I both travel in our jobs. Not constantly, but enough to have favorite airlines and car agencies, and a comprehensive list of NPR stations and WiFi hot spots. Our travel schedules have been easy enough to manage, but now we have a wrinkle in the equation = Bryn the dog.

I work from home, so in the month since we adopted her, Bryn has had a lot of companionship. Visibly, she has bonded to us and to our house, and has become a part of our lives. We take her for walks, play ball with her, and Richard washes her when she has rolled in pungent effluvia. I take her out over lunchtime, and in the afternoon she sleeps in the sun outside on the back porch. She's a good dog, a happy errand buddy who waits patiently at the coffee shop and an ever alert guardian who hears strangers two blocks away.

She's three or four years old. We don't know anything about her early life, save that the SF pound took her in after she had been abandoned with a litter of puppies. The pound treated her wounds, her puppies were adopted, and from there she went to the SPCA where we found her. "Rescued her from durrance vile," as Richard puts it.

***

And then comes the two business trips at the same time. Richard heads south while I go east, and we don't know our neighbors well enough yet to ask them to care for Bryn for several days.

So we decide to board her at the vet. Twenty caring staff members, clean kennels and outdoor dog runs. Kind strangers and metal kennels, a combination Bryn has lived before.

There is no way of telling Bryn that this stay in the metal kennels with the kind strangers is only for a couple of days. No way of telling her this is a sort of doggie vacation and we'll all be home together soon. She looked panicked when they led her away. Her confused and imploring eyes locked with mine as the door closed between us.

And so here we are at the car, about to go to the airport.
It won't be as bad next time. Next time there will be a track record - she goes off to the kennel, people are decent to her, and she comes back home to play ball on the beach with Richard.

But this time it hurts - I feel as if I've abandoned someone who's only be faithful to me.

posted by Woman In Love @ 8:28 PM