The Sky is Falling

I have a friend who’s an “Oh, honey” person.

She’s the first one any of us would call when we felt like Chicken Little holding up the sky. She never tried to ‘solve’ your problems; she’d just be there, to rub your back, listen, nod. It often involved offers of home cooked food and of course, the ubiquitous ‘oh, honeys’.

Neither Ric nor I are ‘oh, honey’ people. I think we’re pretty good listeners but we instantly fire up our ‘Fight or Flight’ instinct, which leads to donning the cape or quietly retreating to a less emotionally demanding space. Not great responses for someone in need of a good ‘oh, honey’. 

When Ric had his first of two hand surgeries awhile back, we were both ill prepared for the level of helplessness he experienced by having only one working hand. My usual go to – nurture through food – while useful, did not quell the fear and anxiety we were both experiencing. Nor the physical pain that he was living with. Ric was not used to feeling so vulnerable and had no language for it. And while I have had the ability to be quietly nurturing around the many children in my life, including my ‘other life’ stepkids, I did not know how to do this with Ric. We are problem solvers by nature, and this was a problem that could not be solved by frantically checking off to-do lists. 

One particularly fraught evening when the gulf between us felt like an ocean, I lowered myself to the laundry room floor and wept like a baby. There was no one there to ‘oh, honey’ me and up to that point, I had not realized how much that I too, was suffering. I was grateful for the thumping of the washing machine and the cavernous echo of our concrete house, as my sobs eased into sighs. When I went back into the greatroom, Ric was still sitting at the dining table where I had left him. But when he looked up at me, I saw what I needed to see, and simply draped myself over him. Neither of us could hold up the sky,  but it no longer mattered.

Iggy

I think it’s easier in some ways to be nurturing with pets vs people because even though they are entirely dependant (which you know from the outset), they are unconditionally grateful. Understanding what they need is equally as challenging as a human, but once our pets’ physical needs are met, there are no mysteries to solve, or emotional minefields to tiptoe through. They are not in pain and you are there. I believe that animals tap into a part of our heart that we are inclined to protect. I saw that with Ric when he lost his dogs, first Lola than Kiko. After about a year, I suggested we might think about getting a dog together, now that we were married, that he was a ‘different’ person when he had a dog in his life. I had not had a pet for a very long time and it was not lost on me that I might need a dog too.

We found Iggy at a breeder for goldendoodles in Wetaskiwin, Alberta. They had 3 litters on the way and so we put our name down for a non-shedding (allergies) medium sized female pup. Ric had always had female dogs and was not wont to entertain the idea of a ‘big dumb male’. When Sonia brought Iggy into the puppy pen, she said, ‘he’s going to be a big guy’. Triple the size of the other thirty-two pups, he instantly trotted over to me, laid down and went belly up at my feet. The guy only wanted love from the moment we met.

Fast forward 15 years and although Iggy is still with us, our lives together have shifted. I experience joy simply watching him sleep peacefully, vs watching him leap over waves in the ocean near us. My heart swells when his tail wags at half mast and he manages his signature goofy grin. I am filled with a mother’s pride when he eats a second breakfast after turning up his nose at almost everything I give him. But most of all, I am grateful for the lessons in life he has bestowed on me, just by being Iggy. He is teaching me to be more gentle, more patient, more present to the moment, and the need at hand. He is teaching me to be an ‘oh, honey’ person.