You know those dogs who are only happy when their keepers have strapped a back pack to them, filled with doggie treats and baggies, because the dogs need to feel like they're working, contributing, doing their part? I think I might be that kind of dog.
Here's the thing: I don't have a keeper to strap a back pack on my back, put me on a leash and send me hiking, and I really need one.
My dad was a workaholic (and every other kind of holic). My mom is also a hard little worker and rarely takes her day of rest. My whole life I've been trying to figure out how I could have come from such hard-working parents and ended up being such a lazy arse.
Today I realized that one of the reasons I become so jittery and feel the need to tear down walls and plan vacations is that I really need to work. I need a purpose. While I know in my core that staying home with Buckaroo and raising him to be an upstanding young man is a very noble deed, it can be a little . . . (hang me by my thumbs now). . . dull.
This all occurred to me this morning while Buckaroo and I were taking our foster doggie, Blue, out for his morning constitutional. When I told my friend Cynthia that we were fostering a dog, she asked, "Are you nuts?" Obviously, she doesn't know me very well. Of course I'm nuts. Possibly bananas and bonkers, too.
The thing is, so far-- and it's only Day Two, so I may eat every word of this-- Blue is making me work in a different way, and it's been a blessing. Buckaroo and I have to get up at first sunlight and take Blue for a long walk, so that's what we do. Even though it's chilly, and we're bundled up to our eyeballs, it's good for us. We need the walk as much as he does. We're outside again for the first time in months, listening to the birds yack and hoot, watching the stream melt, smelling spring.
Plus, I'm improving the life of a homeless dog by helping him go healthy. And what a sweet dog he is: half chocolate lab, half blood hound and so patient with Buckaroo's loving (and sometimes not-so loving) attention. Blue is the size of a small love seat, which is appropriate because he spent his entire life (seven years) sitting on the couch watching TV.
The whole world is new to him, and it's exhausting! When we return from our rambles, Blue heads straight for his cozy spot and snores. Honestly, I could do with a couple of Zs myself, but Buckaroo usually prefers that I stay awake and tend to his train table. By that time, though, I don't mind playing trains so much. I've done my morning work, and I feel mellow.