Monday, July 14, 2008

Storming the Bastille

It's a big anniversary day. Some people broke out of a big old prison and changed the course of history and I started blogging.
The bell in my memory rang sometime mid-morning so I checked the archives and verified that it was really today that was the anniversary of my embarking on this nutty venture. This nutty venture into which I have happily dragged a few of you. Yay for company on nutty ventures!

Once I was sure it was the historic day I cast about for content. Let's see...nearly killed myself with spray fumes, got very late info on changes at work (she was fired?! really?!?!?!) and my beloved Bobby was coming to stay for a couple of days. It didn't seem, well, weighty enough, you know? So I just kept staring at my day harder looking for something and it turns out that content doesn't just spring forth while you're shining a desk chair with your derriere. While walking the pooches, though, I came to one of those realizations we're so fond of here in the blogosphere.

Both Kath and Alex feel that Bobby is an enormous imposition. They call him a big, hunking galoot with bad manners. And, you know, he is a big, hunking galoot but, frankly, that's part of his charm. His manners are truly not so bad with me at all. Once in a while he'll try to pull me or jump on me and I give him the word or a corrective jerk (so many jokes to go with that term and only so much space on the internet) and he straightens up and flies right, as the saying goes. I love having his matching floppy lips and ears around and even his insidious silent but deadly farts have been making me giggle all evening.

Miss Emily, as you know, has a bum leg. It remains similarly bad to when I complained of it yesterday. She can't go far for a while. Well, she can, she would in fact love to, but I can't let her. So for the past couple of days I've been brainstorming how to be sure that Bob gets his ya yas out and not feel guilty about leaving Em alone and still get to work on time. More than once I've considered not going in to work at least one of the days he's here. It'd be nice for the dogs but I didn't do it mostly because it seemed too nice a thing to do for myself. Staying home, writing, hanging with the dogs, wearing my PJs, extravagant, no? I've settled on getting up at 6, as I normally do, taking Bob immediately to the park for a bit of off leash time, coming home, getting ready for work, feeding the menagerie and taking both dogs for a short spin before I go to work. Courtesy of Kath they'll have a noon time walk with our local dogwalker extraordinaire. At night I'll gauge the Bobster's energy level and decide whether it's vital that he hit the park at 9 for another taste of the off leash.

This evening I went straight from work to pick the boy up. He was super excited to see me but easily convinced not to jump then petted and highly praised while he wiggled and rolled and drooled to his heart's content. I power snuggled our Lorry, gave her some food, grabbed a couple of dog toys and we hit the road. He was excited but not nutty and within half a block, really, he'd settled in to walk at a normal pace without pulling. I took him on a long, circuitous route home to pick up Emily. At home he immediately wanted to play with the cats since at his house the kitten is his playmate. I broke that up, reprimanding both sides for stupidity and rounded up the Emster. For her part she stood around looking confused and refusing to touch her injured paw to the ground which I took as a sign that we really shouldn't go far. I settled on a 2 block route with grass for her feet and a mostly deserted home stretch for greater freedom and we, you'll pardon the pun, bobbed and weaved to the sidewalk under the disapproving stares of my ridiculous neighbors. Speaking of Bobby, he was essentially docile by this point, happy to walk at my side or stand and survey his kingdom while we waited for Emily to sniff and scratch. On the aforementioned home stretch I chose to stay on the side with the crazy dog who flings itself at the glass doors because I didn't want to drag Em to the other sidewalk. I figured that, with her bad foot, she'd ignore him or give him a bark and leave it at that.

Some days I couldn't be wronger.

He flung himself, she jumped and the second she landed she yelped in pain and wouldn't put the paw down and I had a hell of a time limping her away from the excitement of the other dog still trying to break through the window pane so we could diffuse the situation. I'm not sure Bobby noticed at all. It was right about there that I had my realization.

I've been blogging for four years today. It's not so very long next to folks like Scalzi and Pamie and Sars and even Dooce but it's practically an eternity next to the new generation of power houses like our beautiful friend Mrs. G. It's no surprise that over the course of those 4 years I've changed where this space is concerned. Take my word for it, please don't go back and read the first entry, or indeed any entry in the first few months. I think I've managed to find a voice and a rhythm and even begun to fly, just a little, quite close to the ground, don't want any of that Icarus craziness to happen. Very exciting things have happened what with Neil Gaiman linking to me and Susie Bright sending me an e-mail. New friendships have been forged, old acquaintanceships have been unearthed and become friendships, old friendships have been strengthened and it would be a laughable understatement to say that I've learned some things.

This past year has been somewhat more intense in that learning category. I've had some rough conversations with friends and family about what I say here and how I say it. It's taught me how important this outlet is to me by how quickly, emotionally and somewhat inexpertly I have defended it. I love this spot in the amorphous vastness of the internet. I've planted my flag here and started to build my tiny claim shanty. Of course I also love my friends and family even when I disagree with them most heartily. So I am having to change my approach and adjust my expectations of myself and of others.

I am honestly not a little grateful to have Bobby here for a few days. It may sound logistically convoluted but he is a comfort to me. We've all been sitting here quietly for over an hour and just a moment ago he spontaneously stood up, whined and licked me all over the face. Now Em is up and cleaning out the entire inside of his mouth. I am studiously not looking. The thing is, I am quite worried about Emily. Objectively she probably has a bad sprain that's getting re-aggravated but at 13 years old there are other possibilities that make all my important orifices pucker in abject fear. With Bobby here she has company even when I'm not around and I've got his special brand of slobbery love to keep my spirits up and a reason to walk off some of my nervous energy without breaking Emily any further. I've just had to adjust my approach a little to protect and enjoy what's important to me.

It's not simple and sometimes it makes me furious and despondent but it's totally worth it.

Thank you for swinging through here and spending some time having happy hour (at all times of the day) on my virtual porch. I look forward to having you around for a long, long time.

3 comments:

  1. Happy 4 years, Kizz! You are right-that is an eternity and quite a body of work. Cheers.

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  2. Thanks Mrs. G. I can only imagine where you'll be at the 4 year mark! I plan to be there when you do, though.

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  3. Happy bloggaversary! I'm glad Bobby wasn't a total pain in the ass and that he brought you a smile. He's good at that!

    Caring for aging dogs ain't for the weakhearted that's for sure. But you are exceptionally strong of heart my friend.

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