January 8: "Dog," First Day Back, Dog Dreams

Billy Collins watches his dog sleep . . . 

Dog

by:  Billy Collins

When she runs in her sleep,

eyelids twitching,

legs churning sideways on the floor,

I wonder if she's chasing

a squirrel or being chased

by an angry farmer waving a rake.

Yes, just like Billy Collins, I've watched my puppy twitch and moan in her slumber.  Legs spasming.  Lips puffing and blowing with suppressed barks.  And I've also wondered what dogs dream--squirrels? angry farmers? running with a wolf pack? bowls of cooked hamburger?

I survived my first day back at work.  Not gonna lie--I eased back into my duties.  Edited and published a podcast.  Answered a pile of emails and phone messages.  Put together a monthly board report.  Messed up a monthly board report.  Put off fixing a monthly board report until tomorrow.  Hosted an event in the evening.  Drove home.  Collapsed on the couch.

Last week, I spent a lot of time with my puppy.  Taking her for walks.  Watching movies with her.  (Turns out, she's a big fan of Christmas with the Kranks and The Bishop's Wife.)  And napping.  Dogs like their naps, especially on furniture they're not supposed to be on.

I watched my puppy twitch and run in her sleep, her little paws working across some dreamscape of snow or dirt or grass.  Little grunts and groans and sighs escaping her snout.  And I did what Billy Collins does in the poem--tried to imagine what she was chasing or being chased by.

I like to think that she was dreaming of me throwing her ball.  Or of the rabbits that haunt our backyard all year long, leaving evidence of their leaps and startles in the fresh snow or mud.  Of long walks around Lake Bancroft, barking at geese and blackbirds.  I want her dreams to be of things that fill her tiny body with joy.

And really, isn't that what we all want and deserve?  To have our days and nights brimming with people and places and experiences that make us feel completely happy.  We all deserve dog lives and dog dreams.  Getting and receiving unconditional love.

At the end of this very long day, Saint Marty is ready to curl up on the back of the couch and bark at some passing cars.