The other day
Dean needed to work late and since our other car is still sitting patiently
out front of the mechanic’s shop (that would be over six weeks now – not that I’m
counting) I had gone home and then come back later with our “boy” to pick him
up. We'd started
back toward home when I heard a loud rustling in the back of the car. I checked the rear view mirror and Angus had apparently
decided his “dad” was too far away from him and had attempted to crawl into the
back seat. He didn’t make it.
So there we
were. Angus was draped over the seat back, half in
front, half in back. I was driving 60
mph and Dean was up on his knees facing toward the back of the car, leaning as
far as he could over the back of his seat grabbing onto whatever parts of Angus
he could reach and trying to pull the rest of him into the back seat. When that didn't work he tried to push the front half
back into the cargo area. That didn't work either. And of course before
he tried either I made him “take some pictures!” which he attempted, but all he
took were videos of sideways car windows and lopsided car ceilings and spinning
blurs of black fur. (I had to take the
photos you’re looking at once we’d finally stopped).
It turns out
pushing or pulling even half of a 72 pound dog over a seat back isn’t as easy
as you might think. About halfway
through the trip Dean finally just gave up.
Since we needed to stop for dog food on the way home and our office is
at one end of town and the dog food is at the other end, it meant Angus
spent about 20 minutes dangling over the seat back. He didn’t seem to mind. There was no struggling or whining or frantic
scraping at the seat back with sharp toenails.
Every time I glanced at the rear view mirror he was patiently
hanging over the seat back, looking at us with big brown eyes, until we eventually were able to
once again join his front legs to his back.
I’ve been
feeling like Angus a lot over the past year – like I’m hanging half in and half
out. Half of my life and furniture
are in the future – Sheridan. And half of my life and furniture are
in the present – Casper. I don't know if you've noticed but I’ve been struggling to adjust to retirement
and moving and a new life in a new place while living in the limbo in between.
Sometimes there has even been some whining. But I think maybe what I need to do is be
more like Angus. I need to wait patiently until both
halves come together ... and just hang.
