on friends

I cant help this new great mood I've been in for a while now. Im not sure how its occuring because I've been really, really sick for..a while now. But nonetheless, there's a spring in my step even on the gloomiest, rainiest days. And as those of us who live in New England know, a New England winter is one of the gloomiest around. We're in serious competition with "Old England" and Ireland. I can't even fathom a winter in Siberia, but I bet its really bad.

Im happy even though I've been really missing the friends I've lost touch with along the way these past few years. Everyone dispersed all over the Country and while we all try keep in touch, its not the same. How can it be? Lives shift and split off into lives of everyones own creation, and we cannot carry every single person we've adored along with us. Sadly. But you have the memories of those days...and the way they made you feel, and how they helped you to become the person you are today. And you always have the hope that your paths will cross again somehow. And that hope makes us happy.

3 shall be the count, and the count shall be 3.

For a whole day I considered adopting a pound puppy. Gunther could use a friend and a stray dog could use a home. But then, Gunther ate another pair of my shoes (sneakers this time) and so the count of this household shall remain at 3.
Perhaps when we dont live in an attic apartment, 4 would be a more appropriate number.
.
I feel guilty that I havent adopted a dog. It must be how Angelina Jolie feels everytime she gets pregnant. She has a 3:1 ratio so far. So, if she's pregnant again, we can expect her to adopt 3 more international orphans by 2010. God bless that woman, at least she's consistent. I do feel for Jen Aniston sometimes, but then again...none of these people know I exist so my thoughts are void and I dont even know why I wrote this paragraph. I do this sometimes. Oh well.

Some good news is that winter seems to be moving along at a fast pace. February is almost over, then March, then some rain in April..and voila! Spring. I must be growing up because Im already planning my flower garden. Im going to get ambitious with some wisteria and morning glories and a trellis. So, expect an entry in May about a tragedy involving some wisteria, morning glories, and a trellis.

Maybe I'll just buy some fresh cut flowers and stick them in the soil outside and try to fool myself.

Sounds good.

I love my dog, I love my dog, I love my dog...

Gunther and I have been having "bonding issues" lately. You've heard of a very real issue called post-partum depression, which occurs in some women after the birth of their baby. Perhaps they feel a diconnect between them and their infant, a resentment they cannot define, etc. However, you may not have heard of post-puppy depression. Let me assure you, it exists, and it exists in me. I love Gunther, I do. But he prefers his Daddy. A lot. WAY more than his Mommy. He actually prefers his Uncle and his Grandparents more than his Mommy. I'm not sure why this is. I totally adore him. Sort of.

Ok, here's the thing. He eats everything I ever loved. My chocolate brown 40's style heels? Gone. In pieces. My family heirloom quilt? Ripped and peed-upon. My undergarments, a far distant memory. I dont know how he does it, but its only my things. Never not once has he touched anything that ever belonged to my boyfriend. Keep in mind, we share a closet.

So its hard to feel the love. He's so small. He's so cute and cuddly. But its his insatiable need to destroy that is tearing us apart. Tonight, he came plodding into the bedroom so nicely and quietly. He looked up at me with these little sad eyes like "please pick me up and hold me?" How could I resist? I felt..motherly! Oh, so this is what its like, I thought, to feel unwavering affection for a child. I was thrilled. I scooped him up and held him close. I put him on the bed with me as I watched a movie.( I have not seen my boyfriend since he bought a Xbox360 a few weeks ago. I believe he is alive and well, I slide food trays under the door to him in the living room. He grunts a thankful grunt and returns back to saving digital people or something like that. Something crucial, I hope. I love him, I hope he comes back. But this is beside the point.) So here we are, mother and son, cuddling and watching a delightful romantic comedy..and then....and then......

It feels warm..and....damp? Like...pee...but..NO, no...he wouldnt have peed on the bed.

Wait...wait a minute..it smells like...

URINE.

And thats that. He peed on the bed. In the middle of our best moment. I love my dog, I do.

So after the trauma and the yelling and the summoning the other half from the dark recesses of the "xbox" living room, and the cleaning and the discussion of just who would foot the dry cleaning bill...the dog has the nerve to come up to me and lick my foot. Which is cute, because he is foot-sized. How can you not love him? How could I really be so disconnected from that?
Currently he is asleep on my lap and I think..I just really hope...that our bonding has now begun. And I do so love him.