“Dani, is that your dog?” I heard from across the street. It was my neighbor, but she wasn’t just any neighbor, she had also been my bridesmaid. We’d known each other for over fifteen years. She hadn’t seen me since we took in a rescue.
“Yep,” I yelled back, pulled in the other direction by a squirrel sighting.
“I NEVER would have thought you’d get a dog!” she yelled back. She had a tone that sounded eerily like the way my mother used to tell my dates, “You know Dani can’t take care of a plant.”
Full confession, in my single days I couldn’t. Or at least I didn’t. A sobering 25 years later, literally, I am amazed at how my dormant caregiver instincts awakened. Not only do I have Pepe, I also birthed and raised two sons and, probably most shockingly, tended to my mother in her last years.
Maybe it’s because I have two school graduations in two weeks, but I have been reflecting a lot about all the unexpected responsibilities that have filled my life since my days sleeping on a futon, staring at the wall eating popcorn. In the last six years, it’s pretty clear that one of the reasons I get out of bed, other than a delicious cappuccino, is to nurture joyful human connection. But if I’m being real, given how complicated and demanding relationships are, there are moments where I long for the simple sound of my mouth crunching popped corn in solitude with no one to worry about.
Any yet, I can’t imagine what my life would look like if I never got out of that studio apartment in West Hollywood, never met Tod, never had kids or rescued Pepe. Since I do have an overdeveloped instinct for worrying, it's fair to assume I’d sleep better. I also suspect that I’d still be listening to Joni Mitchell “Blue,” on repeat. Definitely not laughing nearly as much as I do. That part’s not unique to me, according to the NIH we are thirty times more likely to laugh with others than we are if we’re alone.
The school year is wrapping up and summer has officially launched! Whoopee! Fearful of stoking the “empty nest” sadness flames, I’m not going to read studies and statistics about it. I’ll feel it ‘cause I’ve come to understand that if you pinch off sadness and grief you simultaneously put a cap on happiness. So for the month or so, I’ll definitely be “packing,” tissues that is. And spending a lot more time with Pepe. No one seems to have told him he’s fourteen, still taking off down the street to chase whatever looks delicious. Seeing his tail wagging never fails to make me smile, such unadulterated happiness. Turns out it’s not crazy that he has that effect on me. In an article just this March, Newsweek reported results of a study that revealed that “interactions with dogs can decrease human stress and induce positive emotional responses.” Pretty sure a plant can’t do that Mom, so I turned out okay after all.
