Do you know how weird it is to pull up in your car,
packed with all of your clothes, most, okay – just some of your shoes – and look
up to see you are sitting in front of your son’s house? It’s a temporary
solution to a new situation. At least, this is what I tell myself. The door was
open and I could see a happy little face staring out of the glass, tail
wagging, all excited to meet this person who will hopefully be new and full of
time to give much deserved attention. Yes, moving in with my son – my son, his
dog, his girlfriend, and until just a couple of days ago, now a paying
roommate/renter. Add to this mix – The Mother.
My son’s name is Tom (Thomas Sean) and he adopted a
black Lab who, unbelievably, was already named Sawyer. Get it – Tom’s dog is
named Sawyer! What a hoot! Sawyer is a big dog who likes nothing more than
sitting right beside you and begging for a scrap or two. If you don’t willingly
offer him something, he’ll just nudge close enough to grab it right out of your
hand. He’s not even the least bit apologetic either. But he is just so darn
cute, it’s hard to stay too mad at him. Plus, it wouldn’t so any good since he
honestly couldn’t care less if you’re upset … or hungry, still.
Sawyer has lots of beds, I discovered, throughout the
house, including the corner of the basement TV room where I had just taken up
residency. This room is tiny, as far as TV rooms go – real estate professionals
such as myself would describe it as “cozy” but it is tiny. It’s dominated by
his huge big screen with surround sound. That first night I pulled out my queen
size air mattress and my son plugged it in and it magically, and quickly,
expanded to fill the tiny space. Literally, it reached from one side of the
room and touched the loveseat. No more room for Sawyer’s bed, which we placed
in the adjacent laundry room, which, because it contained an actual sink and
counter became my closet and dressing room. Sawyer accepted the change with
great grace and didn’t seem to mind. He willingly snuggled up to me on the
loveseat every chance he got and I did not mind at all.
One night, around 2 AM, I woke up to hear Sawyer
running around the house like a dog obsessed. I rolled over and tried to ignore
it. I heard him at one point come into the TV room-turned-bedroom and leave a
minute later. Shortly thereafter, I smelled something. Hummm? I got up and
turned on the light. Yep, he had left a smelly disgusting pile right there at
the end of the bed.
I went upstairs to tell Thomas Sean that his dog had
pooped and to ask where the cleaning supplies were. After that incident, we
just left the cleaning supplies in the TV room. Apparently, Sawyer did not
think his bed being moved was such an agreeable proposition. Ahhh, the search
for a new home for me cannot come fast enough! And that is when it occurred to
me that being uprooted, even for a dog, came have ramifications we may not even
recognize. Perhaps we should keep this in mind when dealing with those Prospects
who come to us for guidance and help in deciding where to lay their heads each
night. Yes, I understand – now more than ever.
