One of Teddy’s newest tricks: “Dog!” when he sees a dog on the street.
“Dog!” when he hears the neighbor’s dogs barking.
“Dog!” while pointing to the pictures of Clarence around the house.
“Dog!” when I show up in his room in the morning. (Gee, thanks, kid.)
“Dog!” when looking at the projection of monkeys, birds and frogs on his ceiling. (Whew. So he’s not really discriminating.)
So, you get the picture. He’s a bit (a lot) dog-obsessed.
It’s so bittersweet. On the one hand, I love that he loves dogs. But it makes me so sad that Clar isn’t here to enjoy this time when Teddy would love having a dog pal, and that Teddy probably doesn’t remember him.
And it’s gotten us to thinking: Is it time? Are we ready for another dog?
We knew the time would come sooner or later. Considering a new dog doesn’t mean that we’re over Clar, because I don’t think we ever will be. We agreed long ago – no more beagles. No beagle could ever live up to Clar’s memory and it’s not fair to have to be measured against the best beagle ever (obviously).
But are we ready for a different kind of new dog? I don’t know. I feel like it’s heart against head (against heart). It’s been eight months since Clar died, and we’ve settled into a pretty good day-to-day rhythm with Teddy and home and work. It’s inevitable that a new dog – even an older, somewhat trained dog – would scramble that up, at least for a while. And there are the mornings when B leaves early for work, when it would just be me, Teddy and Dog 2.0 – haven’t figured out how to solve that riddle yet.
So maybe it’s not time, just yet. It feels like the time – not the perfect time, because that won’t ever exist, but a closer-to-right time – might not be too far away, and for the first time in eight months, that seems OK.
(Of course, by then, Teddy will have moved onto “Cat! Cat! Cat!”)