Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Hanging Drapes

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.