Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Portrait of a Revolving Dog

Dear John,
 
I had a good busy day at work. Kathy and I went to lunch together and got caught up on the last week's events for both of us. It was a lovely day, sunny and 72. Now a cold front is coming through - wind howling, thunderstorms, psychotic dog. He's okay as long as he's right beside me. If he isn't okay after I turn the lights off, I'll give him some Benadyl so he can get some sleep. And so I can sleep, too. I'll be up at 5:30 in the morning to sub for Rhoda at BNI - ridiculous hour, but a free breakfast.
 
Jen found this photo today and texted it to me, saying that it reminded her of Jethro. And so it does! But it's even more like Caleb. You know he used to have those days - if he was in, he wanted out; if he was out, he wanted in. What he really needed was a revolving door. After a while his humans had had enough and made him stay on one side or the other. The poster made me giggle all morning.
 
Kathy brought me back a gift from Las Vegas: a Sheldon bobble-head doll. She said she'd located the brother I never knew I had. And I had to laugh so hard. I've said for a long time that I am Sheldon, just with somewhat better social skills and no fear of germs. I almost fell off the sofa watching that one episode where Leonard tells Sheldon that not everybody feels the compulsion to pack all the world away in matching containers, and Sheldon refuses to believe it. You and I have joked about that for years - that I want to pack the entire world away into matching, labeled containers. You and Leonard seem to think that it's abnormal or something.
 
But that's me. And Sheldon. You knew me so well, and loved me anyway. That is truly amazing. You knew the good, the bad, and the ugly, and stayed with me - and even seemed to like being with me. You never wanted me to change for you, but you always supported any change I wanted to make in myself. You gave me freedom, which means you gave me respect. And I still thank you for that.
 
It's 10:00, so I'd better get to sleep if I'm going to be up at 5. Thank you for loving me as I am, for wanting me to be my own person, for not trying to re-mold me into an ideal image. To sum up: Thank you for respecting me as a complete person. It's rarer that you think! Thank you for loving dogs, and for wanting all three of ours to be rescue dogs. They all rescued us right back, didn't they? We both wish you could be here for the storms tonight, but we'll muddle through without you. And if necessary, we'll hit the lime and cocoanut again.
 
Love you always,
Joan.

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