I’m grateful for the soft, pink sky this morning. I’m grateful for back-up plans. I’m grateful for some pretty direct messages. I’m grateful for finally waking up and seeing what was always there. I’m grateful for funny people. I’m grateful to be sober today.
If it’s easier, you can read this morning’s newsletter here: Daily Gratitude List--Moose Edition
The hardest part of this sometimes is coming up with the first sentence. I’ll sit here and stare at the screen or out the window, because words often magically appear there.1 After a bit of that, I usually come up with something weighty and thoughtful, like “Happy Tuesday.” Maybe we’ll leave it there.
Anyway, I very much appreciate all of the kind things people have said :
I guess I can admit that when I posted it, I was hoping for people commenting on the bouncy prose, the deeply self-revelatory story, the depth of the feelings. But it turns out you folks really enjoy dog pictures. We can roll that way, too! Obviously, that video is Moose in all of his finest at the Shaw Dog Park in DC, another place I was a regular. Here is Moose in the garden:
Very interesting…….
I’ve always had a pretty deep connection to dogs. I grew up with a dog, a Brittany Spaniel named “Jente,"2 and have had a number of other dogs passing through my life. Kayla and Buddy were the Labs my kids grew up with and my roommates when I got divorced. When Kayla died in 2015, I set off on a pretty bad spiral downwards--that's the part of the story I didn't tell, how bad things had gotten by the Fall of 2015.
My kids could see it, that’s why they staged what would become the Moose Intervention. Bringing Moose home terrified me. I was barely taking care of myself and that involved prodigious quantities of white wine. I knew that Moose was going to force me to be responsible, force me into some normal routines, force me to go to the dog park in the morning instead of The Commissary. Moose was change and I was not really excited about the prospect. Moose didn’t leave many options.
Seriously, do you think you could say “No?”
Looking back, Moose was the perfect dog for the moment. Goofy, ungainly, damaged and alone but happy and very grateful to be home. Moose was impossible to ignore, when he was happy his tail swung like a baseball bat with predictable consequences for a variety of valuable, breakable things. Moose seemed confused and befuddled a lot of the time, but you always knew where you stood with Moose. I came along when Moose needed a home and some love from me, and I was happy to provide that for him. It turns out that I needed a lot more from Moose than that, and he was always so, so happy to give that to me.
Moose was a really, really good dog.
Thanks for Letting Me Share
This is patently untrue, not sure why I even wrote it.
I had many good ideas for the name of this dog, the Norwegian word for “girl,” my mom’s idea, was not among them.
Daily Gratitude List 10.11.22