Me and My Shadow

For the third night in a row last night, I found myself standing at my front door at 2:00 am in wrinkled pajamas, with disheveled hair, and an unsatisfactory scowl cemented onto my face. It seems my boxer has managed to get off schedule when it comes to bathroom breaks. Although this new schedule doesn’t seem to phase her in the slightest, it does - me.

Even after subjecting herself to 20 degree temps and making an enthusiastic leap back into bed, my white boxer was able to (within seconds), fall back into a deep, restful sleep. However, even after trying earnestly not to fully waken myself during the entire process of shuffling and grumbling to and from the front door, my head (once returned to the pillow), began to stir with activity. I moaned with annoyance. My boxer released a sigh, signaling to those around her (me), that a peaceful slumber was once again descending upon her.

Since my english setter passed away, my white boxer has become my constant shadow. I have clunked her head with my elbow and stepped on her paws more times than I care to admit. At times our synchronized movements get out of whack, resulting in her stepping on the part of my slipper that flops beneath my feet as I walk; only possible as her steps are kept so tight to that of my own. Rarely is there a moment when she is not watching me; her head is often cocked to one side as she attempts to make sense of the startling noises that erupt from my movements. I look into her large seal-like eyes and wonder what she is thinking. Undoubtedly, she has to wonder where her friend has gone, and when he will return. Or do dogs just know. If so, is what I see in her eyes grief; similar to what I see in my own. 

My nights are spent with her body so tightly curled next to mine, I can’t move. Instead of forcing her to the other side of the bed, I painfully adjust my body to better conform to hers. She needs to feel secure, and it seems, I’m the only one that can provide the comfort she’s seeking. Unless that is, its a sunny day, in which she rests securely in a warm sun square on the floor. The other night I awoke to discover I had lost all feeling in my right hand. In an effort to weld herself tighter against my body during the night, she had, unbeknownst to me, planted herself on top of my right arm while I was fast asleep. 

Whereas my setter was content sleeping beneath my desk with my feet rested on top of him, my boxer found contentment knowing he was near. I worry that she’s not getting all that she needs now that he’s gone. I feel such an unbelievable loss, I have to wonder if she does too. Mine is a two-fold loss of course: first my father, then my faithful friend.

I believe we are all here for a reason, whether we know it or not. And those animals that become are pets, do so to become our companion, in a way that no human could ever be. Our pets mirror us, not in looks, but in what we project into the world and what we want from the world. This skinny white boxer wants only to love life and love those around her. No doubt about it, this dear gentle beast mirrors me.

Sane