Things I Didn't Know

I didn’t know how cold I would be in my chair without your back to keep me warm.   You were my little hot water bottle on long days of writing.   I didn’t know how quiet this house would be until your toenails stopped touching the floor.  I didn’t know how distressing two perfectly matched shoes were when found just where I left them.  I didn’t know how someone so small would leave a hole so big. 

I didn’t know windshield wipers really needed to be watched closely from the inside of my car and are worth a bark or two to keep them at a distance.  I didn’t know that eating ice cream would be so lonely.  I didn’t know that vizslas come best in sets of three, one always available to give another a rest from catching sticks or chasing rabbits, but not from eating ice cream.  That’s a group event.

I didn’t know how glistening your eyes were, the way they sparkled in green and gold, until I closed them for you, lifted you from the pavement, and carried you home.

It’s funny, isn’t it, how hard I fought against us?  First I tried to keep you from being conceived, visiting the woman who bred you, looking at your father tied to a stake, reeling and wild.    I knew when I left, we would meet.

You were nine months old when your first owner returned you.   We spent the summer together, running, playing, making you “ready.”   I didn’t know the tears that flowed when I left you in your new home would be the ones I long for now.

You were two when you came back.  And remember the other couple who kept you just one night before I found you again in my kennel, confused, shaking?   I didn’t know how many people could turn you in, like you were nothing.  I didn’t know, because to me, you were the farthest thing from that.  There wasn’t a day that you didn’t look at me wondering when I would get it.  You kept coming back because there was only one place you belonged. 

I didn’t know not to let you out of my sight that morning.  Of course, now, I do.  It was warm.  The scents of a rabbit or a coyote, whoever our visitor was, must have been fresh.  It’s the only reason you would leave me. 

I didn’t know how beautiful you were.  It wasn’t just your face; it was your energy and boundless love, love you rained on me every hour of every day.  If I left you, even briefly, I could tell you were in mourning.

 I know the feeling. 

 I didn’t know I would know the feeling.