What to Expect When Expecting

One begins to see things, notice details, listen more attentively, when one is presented with a new situation. I bounced down the steps in the morning, and with the morning sun shining into the dining and onto the ivory colored carpeting, I saw three smudges, each about a foot apart, as if made by a quadraped. Each stain had three prongs to it, as if from a paw print. Upon closer inspection, they were footprints probably made by one of my nieces during our last family gathering.

But even so, I realized I am making myself OK with this decision. I am also making space for him as well. I keep wondering when Subaru the beloved yet oft ignored goldfish will perish from this earth, his tank. He has been swimming contentedly in that tank for more than four years. It teems with algae for weeks before any one even considers feeding whatever is still alive beneath seaweed. Subaru’s tank sits atop a coffee table, which is conveniently located in a spot that might be perfect for a dog. Perhaps that is how Subaru arrived in that location.

The sun shines in the window in the late afternoon, it is a cozy corner of the family which sees less and less family in it these days.

I walk with Mark, or my neighbor and notice dogs on leashes, behind invisible fences. I hear dogs barking from within the confines of their home where the the owners have left them behind, not of neglect, but perhaps something more pressing.

The feeling is somewhat akin to being pregnant. When I was expecting Davis, everyone around me appeared to be expecting too. Or perhaps there was an obesity epidemic at the time. I still have pictures taken a few months after Davis was born when there were a rash of births at the Tillamook County General Hospital, in Oregon. There were 11 in total, all born within a month of each other, and for this, the hospital was full and the community grateful that there was a new generation of future farmers to milk the famous Tillamook cows. Davis would never be one of them due to our move, but I doubt he would have been one of them anyhow.

Mark has subscribed to a daily e-mail which gives a tidbit a day about our chosen breed. Now, I receive once a day, the Writer’s Almanac, filled with poetry, important figures born on this day in history and a greeting from Garrison Keilor “Be well, do good work and stay in touch.” This is all meant to inspire me at 6 am when I rise with coffee to write. But I don’t understand the intent of a daily e-mail regarding tidbits about raising a Cavalier King Charles. This would be akin to receiving daily phone calls from my mother about being pregnant, or even afterwards, on how to raise kids. Remember that book, What to Expect When You Are Expecting?

I don’t need to know everything about Enzo – I expect to be surprised.