A temporary dog
Yesterday, Justin brought a dog by for us to take care of until he gets a house in June. He then became upset because he found out the dog is actually 6 years old, not 4 years old, so he might take it back or it might become our dog.
Since dogs have short life expectancies, it might not be bad to have a 6-year-old dog. It could easily be gone before I leave the world, and caring for it could ease some of the rough troughs of depression. Besides, there are always lots of teenage boys at my house who could help take care of it. We’ll see.
Because Justin was there, I went for a walk up to the high school with him, my son, and the dog. When you have agoraphobia, there are plenty of places you avoid, and walking on this path made me realize that I haven’t been on it for well over a year, even if it is 5 minutes away from my home. We also went into the back yard, and I pointed out my hammock which I used once last summer and hadn’t walked to so far this spring. All that stuff in my back yard seems so far away when I’m alone, but given a role to play and company, I can find myself in the back yard, helping to string a metal fence to hold a dog. I didn’t go all the way to the back yard shop, a 20 second journey from the back door, but this was the closest I’ve been in a couple of years.
Being in the pit band with Justin conducting meant that I spent a lot of time during the last six weeks staring at him, and then last night while we were sitting in the yard with the dog, we stared at each other for at least 20 seconds. What does that mean? Such a long gaze between two friends? I also said that if we do continue being friends beyond the time the dog leaves our house in June, then perhaps we could have a weekly movie night. That is the first time I’ve expressed hope in a friendship for at least 10 years. He may be half my age, but he is extraordinary.