Martin, the Family Doodle
If you’ve known me any time at all, you know that a decade back I would post two or three times per month about how much I wanted a dog. Nine years ago, little Martin came into our lives and we have been sooo much happier, ever since.
So it’s a big deal to me if and when I feel like I’ve let him down. Dogs don’t give a damn. You step on their toes and they yelp and twenty minutes later they’ve forgotten all about it but I wonder if I ever will.
Martin likes to come into our home office and crawl into the foot space under the desk. He has a little routine, where he makes a couple of circles and lays down, sighs heavily and then goes to sleep. Often, he rests his head or his paw on one of my feet.
It gives me such a great feeling when he does this. It’s warm but I swear you can actually feel the love with every breath he takes. Sometimes, after he’s been there for twenty or thirty minutes, he’s shift or adjust himself and sigh again and continue napping. It’s great.
Last week, on two different days, he fell asleep with a paw or an ear near the little wheels on my office chair. And at some point I scootched back or forward to adjust the way I was sitting and ran over him or at the very least pulled at some of hair. He gave a little yelp both times and as I said earlier, half an hour later he was completely over it. But it ruined my day both times.
I had a pretty major surgery a few years ago and was in a lot of pain and discomfort and had difficulty hauling myself up and into the bathroom, etc. On my return to the bed one time, Martin was laying right where I needed him to be and he wouldn’t move. I yelled at him. Loud and long, and making eye contact. His ears went down and his tail went between his legs and he moved quietly to the foot of the bed, keeping his eyes on me to make sure I wouldn’t hurt him.
I burst out crying. It had been a shiddy week. The surgery, the wait for the cancer prognosis, hauling around an increasingly ineffective “pain ball” like some kind of a 1930s with an old ball and chain. I couldn’t eat anything but soup and broth and I was just tired of it all—and look what I’d just done to my boy. I cried and cried and hugged him and begged forgiveness. “I’ve wanted a dog for thirty years, honey, and look how I just treated you!”
He wagged his tail and buried his nose in my arms and cuddled. He was over it already. I still feel bad about it.
I hope when the day comes, I remember the fun and funny times and not issues like this one. For sure he does not care any more and wouldn’t want me to, really.
