Two dogs blogging

My brother suggested I rename my blog and I am seriously considering it. Romy and Oz seem to have more wisdom to offer the world than do I. They view things pretty calmy, and when they do get ruffled, they bark with intent: fierce, protective and focused. "It's nothing personal," they seem to say, "I just have to protect my people."

We spent the last three days working on the house. It is an old home, set in a wooded neighborhood, backing up to a small creek. Birds screech from the trees in early morning; fat robins, small brightly colored finches and mousy wrens. Yesterday at a friend's I saw pilated woodpeckers, happily knocking on tree limbs. Later today I will set out feeders near my sunporch to lure them in here, as well.

When I was so sick last year, I sat, hour after hour, on my bed, watching squirrels and birds fight for possession of the feeder pan I set out. It helped to pass the hours where I learned what it means to be acutely alone. I've always been a bit of a loner, but the more I was separated by illness from my Fellowship pack, the more I realized what a pack animal I'd become.

I went to a meeting last night, where the topic was the reading from NA's daily meditation book. It was the definition of insanity--repeating the same actions and expecting different results. I shared about my struggles with anger and was promptly cross-talked by a member about how someone working a spiritual program doesn't allow him or herself to get angry, which is absolute tripe. We are all human, subject to different failings, big or small. One of mine is anger--which I work on immediately when I notice it in its many nuances: impatience, not listening, or outright get-out-of-my-face indignation. We all struggle with our failings, but they masquerade differently in everyone. But to my small credit, he didn't piss me off, so I guess that's growth. An oldtimer early in NA used to say "The phonies will eliminate themselves," and I often take comfort in that phrase. I know that it doesn't mean they get loaded, it sometimes means they box themselves in to such a tight circle they disappear from the rooms.

The skies have been gloomy and the air damp since I arrived, as if to taunt me for leaving warm and sunny Arizona. I've had the heat on since I seem to get cold easily these days. I know in a few weeks, I'll be dealing with the humidity. Not much changes in Missouri but the weather. It can be 75 one day and 45 the next. There's a saying here, "If you don't like the weather, stick around, it will change." That much I know is true. At this time, it's the only thing I know is true.

That and my buddy Romy is A-okay because I'm here. When I first pulled up to the house Thursday, she hopped out of the truck and ran right up the steps and into the house, although she's never been here before. She didn't bark at Rodney, although she hadn't seen him since February. She seemed to remember he was a pack member. Even his father, who came over to help pull carpet, was warmly greeted by Romy, which is unusual. Maybe she senses the genetic link.

I had a German shepherd, Atomic, who was, as my friend Pat said, a "standard poodle in a German shepherd suit." I used to take Atom to the Berkeley dog park, a mile-long leash-free park on the bay. My good friend had a standard, and I'd pick her up and Izzie and Atom would romp back and forth in the station wagon enroute to the park. People would pull up to us at stop lights, peering in, wondering why the car was rocking. They would inevitably laugh to see the two dogs, so disparate, wrestling.

Every day at 3 o'clock was standard poodle hour, and many of the Berkeley and Oakland poodle owners, usually stay-at-home types in Volvo wagons, would arrive with their poodles. Atom was an honorary member, and would run like crazy with the poodles. They accepted her as one of their own. But I noticed one thing. If another German shepherd was in the park, she would briefly abandon her poodle buddies and run directly to him or her, sniffing, tail wagging. I think, in short, they understand genes better than we do. They probably understand many things better than we do. Until tomorrow, then, remember: God is Dog spelled backward.