What Would Life Be Without Mr. Darcy?

And another thing…

My sixties are best defined by what I consider a miracle. Just a few months before my 60^th 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.

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.

...and Suzy's deck

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? 

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