A Psalm of the Owner

Enzo stirs in me the urge to be a better napper. 
He compels me to want to lie down
in the verdant pasture of the Oriental rug
to bask in sunshine piercing through the front door.

After others have left for work,
he leads me beside still waters of my coffee and newspaper.
When offered a hand, he bounds with grace
and anoints my cheeks so as to restore my soul
through belly rub he receives.

He fears not the danger of impending storms
because he follows
the path of righteousness to his crate
where he seeks shelter and silence.

A bowl is prepared ahead of him
with a bite of banana and fresh water.
Surely, sleep and comfort will follow.
And he shall laze in the lap of his owner forever.

Enzo Turns One

2010-01-01 Enzo Turns One

Enzo, Enz, zozer, zo, pup, peanut. No matter what we call our puppy, he still turned one yesterday. He sits quietly at my side now, as I write, chewing on a pizzle (from a bull), a thought I would have never entertained only one year ago.

When we first brought him home, the nights were restless. Enzo would go into a nighttime routine and terrify us all during his bewitching hour. He would run circles in the family room so much we thought the busy pattern of the Oriental rug was making him crazy. We were told this was possibly his ancestors “hunting” time which might explain the wild behavior between 9:30 and 10:30 p.m. each and every night. No one ever wanted to “stay up” with Enzo, and the job usually fell to my husband, sometimes to me.

He has brought a mixture of peace and energy to our household which is just that, a mix of calm and then whirlwind activity depending on the time of day or night. There are days when I have to remind myself that he is really just a dog, no matter how much a part of this family he is. I feel guilt (Catholic) when leaving him in his crate longer than four hours at a time, I rush home, or rush through my groceries, often skipping my last errand or two for the sake of letting him out. It is my own anxieties that I thrust upon him, as I realize I would not want to be crated up for that long either.

We have all learned to share in responsibility of caring for Enzo and we have all taken from him the attention he is willing to give (or working on getting). The length of his body now covers more than my arm, his coat of deep red shines after grooming and his eyes still belie the message, I know I am cute.”

He has chewed most of my furniture. Silly me for going for the natural look years ago when selecting my décor. And dirty socks seem to require a sniff from Enzo, no matter who they belong to or where the socks have been.

As I write about him here, he is ignorant to my wishes and my words, but he has been key to my well-being. However, for the many who offered after my first husband died, that I should possibly get a dog, I would never recommend that to any friend. Because no matter how much time and space he fills, he will never tell me he loves me, and will choose his chewing toy over me.