Puppy?

I’m traveling for work next week. My boss applied to go to a training workshop for the more technical aspects of a project I’m leading, but decided his teaching load wouldn’t permit him to attend. When faced with driving 9 hours to attend class for three days versus teaching his classes, I took the former without any hesitation. I’m a bit concerned – it’s been years since I had to sit and focus on something for two hours straight, let alone all day. I’m a bit intense with checking email, taking breaks, playing with my iPod. So it could be a rough few days.

It’s always a problem figuring out dog-sitting. The thought of driving all the way to my parents’ then continuing on to this class didn’t appeal. It would have added a good 8 hours to the trip. Plus, they were here this weekend and taking the puppy home with them seemed logical. So I arranged her blanket carefully on the passenger seat and she hopped in and waited for me to remove her leash as I stood beside the car. Then I closed her door, and waved from my spot in front of the garage. And watched her little face change from “I’m going somewhere!” to “Wait! I belong with my mom!”

Assuring myself that she’d be fine – my parents love her almost as much as I do – I waved as they turned the corner and headed back inside. How lovely, I told myself, trying to believe it, that I’ll have a quiet house, can clean and work and go to church without having her whine at me as I vacuum or put on make-up. I can sit wherever I’d like, not have to make room for her as I sleep, get to use the blanket without having her steal it as she tucks it around herself.

But I’ve never been in this house without her. And I miss her. Found myself calling her name as I found something for lunch, wondering if she’d want the sausage off the leftover slice of pizza. Then feeling my heart hurt as I realized she isn’t here. I left the door to the garage open when I went out to fold laundry – she hates it if she gets locked inside and can’t explore the garage while I’m out there. I put all her toys away in the three baskets I keep, and they’re still there. I’m looking around and not seeing tennis balls, squeaky squirrels, bright plush birds and gaudy plastic toys scattered across the carpet. She didn’t get excited when I took out the suitcase to pack, wasn’t waiting when I got out the shower, isn’t tucked behind my knees as I sit here and type.

I haven’t been so lonely lately – a mixture of having people in my life that I really enjoy though they aren’t physically present, being really busy, then seeing a good deal of my family – we’re on weekend 2 of 3 in a row that I’ll spend with them. But having my furry little friend gone, talking to Mom and knowing she cried for 30 minutes after leaving me, that she currently is sitting on the armchair in front of the living room window, watching to see if I’m coming to get her soon, wondering if she’ll sleep well or continue to wait just in case I appear.

It makes me sad – ridiculously, profoundly unhappy. So much so that I can’t write a decent post for you guys. And I’ll probably go to bed early, shaking my head at myself because I love her so much, and wiping away a few stray tears.