Marriage and A Pup Named Pip

You know how women in their late twenties sometimes have that marriage meltdown? It occurred to me that I’m now eligible for the meltdown. I haven’t had it yet mind you, nor do I wish to get married at this time. But I’ve been worrying about having the meltdown. I’m worried my mind will change and then I’ll want something I don’t currently want and then it will hurt my feelings. This is akin to my worry about whether or not I have any regrets. I don’t think I do but the fear of a regret is matched with the burden of acquiring one. See how I torment myself?

As a teenager, I didn’t want to get married until 29. I thought that was the appropriate age and I smile at this now knowing that I was a pretty cool kid – in no rush to commit or be tied down or to do laundry for two. “I have my own dern life to live!” 

I have a Lebanese uncle who became nearly hysterical to find that I was 25 with no desire to get married. “It’s too late!” he shouted at me, clearly distraught. I laughed at his naivety and carried on quitting jobs that interfered with my travel schedule. Two years later, little has changed.

But it all started with everyday items. Mom bought new towels. Fluffy, light grey bath towels with matching washcloths, and I felt a twinge of jealousy. I’ve always wanted a set of matching towels. Matching towels look intentional and orderly. I use a heap of zany beach towels and a mismatched collection from my youth. I also have a pale green towel that was present the first time Ellen learned to do laundry with bleach. My longing for matching towels started around age 22 but I’ve never given the thought true consideration. Why would I spend money on matching towels when I have plenty already? I’ll buy matching towels when I get married and have a home.

Later, Ellen bought string lights to hang on her porch. Big, round café lights like the ones I’ve loved since I was a little girl. As a 12 year old I imagined the perfect backyard patio and though the flowerpots and cushion patterns have changed with age, the one constant is having countless swags of café lights dipping down over the table and disappearing up into the trees. I’ve always wanted string lights for my backyard but why would I buy those for a patio I rarely sit on? I’ll buy string lights when I get married and have a real yard.

Two months ago I got a craving for a puppy. With that craving came the frantic feelings I have towards anything that’s unruly and damp, namely small children and select members of the elderly community but animals also fall into the category. I ignored my maternal instincts. I like my clean, quiet house. And anyways, loving puppies is too trendy. I’ll get a puppy when I’m married.

That’s when it hit me. For someone only mildly concerned with the concept, I seem to think life starts after you get married. This realization crept up on me slowly as I noted more things I wasn’t doing. Surely that can’t be. Look at all the things I do. Look at the life I’ve had so far. I didn’t need to be married to be Laura. The longer I thought about this, the more things, bizarre inconsequential things, came to mind that I’ve unknowingly put in the category of “Later, When I’m Married”. The list goes as follows:

Things to Buy                                                                    Things to Do

String Lights                                                                      Adopt a dog

Patio Furniture                                                                  Get a bicycle

A coffee maker, knife set, and casserole dishes                     Volunteer

Matching towels                                                                 Start an exercise regimen 

A dresser (I keep my clothes in a bookshelf)                         Write that book

Picture frames                                                                    Have dinner parties

A bar cart or credenza to display shiny glassware                 Finish my paintings

When I realized how many things were on my Married List I felt an amused sadness for myself. As a mild defense, many of these are purely for financial practicality. Decorative beebobs are lovely but they cost money that could be spent on airfare or concert tickets. You have to prioritize these things you know. But mostly I realized I’m living an abbreviated life, waiting around to invest in making a home I really love until I have someone to sit under the patio lights with me. Do you think my bumpkin husband is going to care if the pictures on the walls are in frames? I doubt his one good eye will even take a hard look at the photo. The frames are for me. I should buy the frames. Will Husband be appalled, patting dry his varicose veins with towels from 1990? Nope. I reckon he would dry his rump on anything within arms reach of the shower. How will being married help me write a book or finish my paintings? What if I don’t meet my husband at the Seven-11 cigarette counter until I’m 45? I can’t wait that long to exercise.

You get my point. I don’t know where this has come from though it’s a list that’s been secretly growing for over a decade. Maybe I think I’ll be more at peace – feeling loved and settled etc, and therefore more clear headed and less anxious, and somehow also possessing much more free time for artistic expression and reading magazines. Or maybe I’m just avoiding commitments. I change my mind an awful lot. I find this whole thing ridiculous but also understandable. I imagine lots of people, men in particular, have a silly thing or two that they’re holding off until they have a spouse. But I can’t allow myself to continue living like an Amish girl on the eve of her Rumspringa.

So I played a game with myself. Suppose God came to me in a very moist chocolate cake and said, “By the way Big Lu, I didn’t write ‘getting married’ into your story. You’re going to be the good-natured neighborhood hippy with a fondness for landscaping and home brewed kombucha.”

Then what Big Lu? I told Mom that God not letting me get married could be my thing. 

“No Mom, it’s perfect. Me! Someone who loves to love people and write them witty poems! That’s going to be my big trial. That’s going to be my lost limb or my house fire or my drug-riddled teenage boy! It’s the perfect crime!”

Mom laughed at me and said “That’s ridiculous.” but I think she was just trying to make herself feel better. I saw her consider it for a moment. So I pretended I’ll never get married. How would I set my life up now? What would I want my life to look like? How would I make myself happy?

The first thing that came to mind was being lonely. I’m lonely now, holed up in my house alone all day, writing emails to people who are… getting married. I’d get a companion immediately, cause I have lots of cuddles to give. And we would start an exercise regimen, possibly involving a new bicycle. Look at me livin’ my dern life!

 So let me tell you about Pippa. She’s a boxer mix and she’ll be three in February. She weights 38 lbs, her tail only wags up and down, not side to side, and I adopted her from Pet Helpers on September 24^th.

Brett, Hayden, and I walked down the kennel hallway, my little heart breaking at every cage, and greeted the pups inside. Some were gregarious, some were barking, and one had a confusing mix of growling with a happy tail wag. One dog was sprawled out across a cot, one was cowering in the back corner, and another had to have his cage blocked off so he couldn’t see out. I’m not sure about that guy.

But one was a happy, handsome fella named Flint and I asked if I could meet him. They made me fill out forms and had us wait in a cinderblock room reminiscent of prison visiting hour on TV shows. We were antsy. Brett was delighted by my urge to get a dog. Hayden was less convinced. Just moments later, Flint came swinging into the room, jumping and wagging and licking and he was so excited, he immediately peed all over Brett’s shorts. The presence of Flint stressed me out but we listened to the worker talk, telling us what a fun, smart dog he is but I knew he wasn’t for me. I decided to cut the crap. I said, “Listen, I’m a quiet, lazy, nervous person. I work from my clean home and I don’t like loud noises. Who do you have?”

She laughed and said, “Let me go get Rasta.” and moments later she brought in this nervous wreck of a dog. It was the cowering dog from earlier. The worker said she’s afraid of people and hasn’t really been eating because the noise and barking in the kennel is stressing her out. But Rasta liked us. She approached us slowly and licked our faces and broke all of our hearts. I thought she was perfect. We took her outside, out of the noisy kennel, and she transformed into a normal dog, She ran and wagged her up and down tail and eyed us curiously.

I thought about her all night, hating that she had to spend another night hungry and afraid. I went back for her the next day, bought her a collar, and renamed her Pippa.

Now let me tell you about this nervous dog. We spent two full days together. She wouldn’t eat much but she let me pet her and walk her and she would turn around and look at me while we walked, wondering why I was following her. She never pulled on the leash, barked at other dogs, or took off after squirrels. She was living an abbreviated dog life. I wondered if she was waiting for marriage to be a dog. On the third day, I had to leave her at home for a few hours and I worried. Would she have a fit, chew up my furniture, go to the bathroom on the rug? I came home three hours later and she was curled up in my bed, everything in place and no piles on the carpet. And when that dog saw that I had come back, she lit up, wagged her catapult tail, and she’s been sure about me ever since. She eats hearty meals, drags me down the street, and sleeps across 75% of my bed, leaving me with a small quadrant.

Pip sleeps quietly through the night and wakes me up about 7:00am with a head nudge and forced cuddling. She seems to never need to go to the bathroom and now the both of us go out at least three times a day for walks and jogs.  She has lots of weird quirks that make me wonder what happened to her. She doesn’t like anything to pass over her head (people, hedges, car trunk doors), she hates loud noises, and she flinches when you reach out to say hello but she loves dogs and going to the Dog Park and I have a huge bruise on my hip from the time she decide to fly me like kite. She’s very strong.

Two more notes. Buddy is not excited about Pippa. He won’t let me pet her when we are at at his house. If I call her, he comes and if I reach down to touch her, he squeezes between Pip and my hands. He also doesn’t like that she makes him look very fat and slow and he became visibly frustrated when he couldn’t catch her as they ran through the backyard. Things have gotten better since their first few meetings and I know he’ll grow to appreciate her (he loves anything that plays with him) but right now he’s working on some jealousy issues. Lastly, you know who really hates Pippa? Sweet little Grace. She’s taking this news very hard. She’s ignoring me and sometimes Brett too if he’s caught loving on Pip. She nips at Pippa when she walks by and they’ve gotten into a few heated arguments. Sometimes they run and play together and then Grace suddenly remembers that she’s not supposed to like Pippa and so stops and looks around nervously, hoping no one saw her having fun. We've been laughing at Grace a lot.

Pip gets me out of the house and I give her a quiet place to rest. 

We’re a good  little nervous match.