And another thing…
My sixties are best defined
by what I consider a miracle. Just a few months before my 60th
birthday, Mr. Darcy found me. His
nickname on the rescue site photo was “Cary Grant”, but there he was, not yet
six weeks old, looking right at me, his eyes saying come and get me. So I did. My sexagenarian birthday present to
myself.
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| six weeks & so tiny |
My corporate working life
included a lot of travel, and later as a consultant I continued to pop around
the globe. I was ready to stay home and thought
it would be nice to have a man around the house. The 2-legged version wasn’t
working out so well. I’d always wanted
my own Mr. Darcy, but Colin Firth, Laurence Olivier and Matthew Macfayden were
unavailable.
The day I adopted Mr. Darcy
was one of the happiest, and scariest, days of my life. So handsome, but so
little and fluffy and helpless and totally dependent—on me. It was like bringing a baby home from the hospital and saying
“Now what?” At least I don’t have to send him to college. I calmly (and
assertively, since I was practicing my “Alpha Mom” voice) explained that we
were both new at this, and we’d have to figure it out together.
Four years later and it’s
still a love-fest. And here’s what I
know so far:
If you plan on getting a dog
in your sixties, and you’re a confirmed couch potato, get a cute little lap dog.
Preferably one that’s already house-trained.
Do not get a border collie who
needs to run—a lot—and who’s also smarter than you are.
On the other hand, if you enjoy
brisk walks, want to stay in shape, and meet your neighbors, he’s the dog for
you. Mr. Darcy quickly became a neighborhood favorite, and after four years of
walking the streets, every outing is like walking into Cheers—everybody knows his name. Not mine. Without him, I enjoy
anonymity.
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| ...and Suzy's deck |
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| We love Yappy Hour... |
Without Mr. D, would I have
enjoyed playful runs on the beach, beautiful pre-dawn moonlit skies, majestic
swans on a canal dock, and romps in the snow? Would Darcy and his best friends run
and wrestle while their humans sip wine at “Yappy Hour” every day? I’m not
kidding—in my sixties I have literally “gone to the dogs”.
With Darcy, I am exploring
the world anew, like a child, with wonderment. A few years ago, I underwent
EMDR therapy (fascinating, but totally off-subject). I tended to see in images,
and what I saw was a little lagoon of intense deep, dark blue, with ripples
moving ever-so-slowly in concentric circles. When I looked deeper, I felt I was
seeing and feeling love through Darcy’s eyes and it was pure joy.
Without Mr. D would I have
written Fifty Shades of Grrrr on my
Long Beach Patch blog? (Check it out, it’s funny.) Would I have bought a
Shop-Vac for shedding hair?
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| Colin Firth has nothin' on my guy |
Would I have installed doggie doors everywhere and call my upstairs porch the “poop deck”?
This unconditional love
thing is amazing. In your sixties or at any age.
Peace & Love
