Priorities

So, I've had a cull of my bookmarked websites. It was an interesting list. "Ten Best Toys For Dogs": how to keep your dog from being bored, and to challenge them at the same time. "Baskerville Muzzle" - this was in a desperate attempt to eliminate the poo-eating, but abandoned as being just too mean to inflict on a dog who loves to put everything in her mouth and then spit out the uninteresting things, though there weren't many that fell into that category: blackberries, fallen sloes, plums and hips, stones, twigs, leaves, clods of earth, hay, straw - these were among the acceptable things she picked up. "Dog Food Search Results", which led to me ordering a massive sack of cold-pressed dry food milled in Germany, defined by researchers as the best available. "Pack Leader - this has to be YOU". The list of dog-related items went on and on, but I've deleted them all now. I suppose it says as much about me as the dog. Anxious, determined to do the right thing, constantly looking for answers when problems arose, insistent that everything would work out fine, I piled the pressure on myself. I think it's probably what I do. It's been an illuminating experience, but one I would prefer not to have had. They say it always ends in tears, but I disagree. I chose the 'fat lady sings' finale, and I played some Mozart arias sung by Deborah Voigt before she shed a few tons, so that's OK.

Coming down this morning at 6.45 to an empty house was not a distressing experience. I am nowadays if not necessarily by nature a quiet person. I take much pleasure in the things that are done silently, like gardening, reading, doing the crossword. I like to take my time. The radio has its place, but often a whole day goes by without it's company and I don't even notice. Music, too, can be absent without being missed, and the television doesn't go on every night. Accommodating an insistent, demanding little person was a challenge for me that I rose to. And so I would come down in the mornings dressed but unwashed, and be out of the door for the necessaries to be performed before the kettle had boiled for my tea. Back indoors, balls were brought to me to throw, soft toys were thrust at me to play tug with, a firm little body was pressed against my leg as a reminder that strokes were vital and had to happen NOW! It didn't come naturally to me when at that hour I preferred to read the paper online. But I did as she wanted, I rarely pushed her away. I loved it.

Now I can go back to how I was. I haven't worn my dressing gown for around 90 days, but that's come out again. I can regulate my days as I want to without having to plan for another person. I'm not saying it's better, but it's how it is. And I'm not going to feel bad about it. I had already thrown away that T shirt.