“Bob, she’s just
getting groomed, for heaven’s sake.”
“But what if they
hurt her?”
“Grooming is all
they do. She’s got all that matted fur. You’ve got to pull
yourself together and be strong. You slept like a baby the
night before my surgery.”
“But this is
different,” he said caressing her. “She’s not my wife. She’s
my dog.”
At nine o’clock,
he called the grooming place. “If she’s in pain, you’ll stop,
won’t you?”
I grabbed the
phone and whispered to him, “You called them yesterday and
said the same thing.” I apologized to the secretary. “My
husband’s a dork,” I said.
Gracie gets
tranquilizers when there’s a thunderstorm because thunder
freaks her out. Although she was very calm this morning, I
said, “What about her pills?”
“That’s a great
idea.” He went to the medicine cabinet and took one himself.
Then he slept until her appointment time. After he dropped her
off, he called me from his cell phone. “It’ll take 3 hours,”
he said, sighing heavily.
“You’re right
near the pond,” I said. “Why don’t you take a
walk?”
“Without my dog?”
he said, aghast.
“OK.” I was
trying to be patient. “Why don’t you pick me up and we’ll have
lunch?”
“Without
Gracie?”
“It’s not like
she sits with us at the table, Bob.” He nixed lunch and came
home, where he paced for 3 hours. Then he picked up our
beautiful dog. That evening in the kitchen, he said, “I’m so
glad it’s over.”
“Me too. You did
great with this whole thing,” I lied, holding up my arms for a
hug. He raised his arms in return and walked past me to
Gracie, where they sat on the floor together and
embraced.
There’s something
very wonderful and tender about Bob’s love for his dog. That
night in bed, I reached across Gracie and put my hand on Bob’s
arm. “I love you,” I said softly. I moved my hand above
Gracie’s head, which was resting on Bob’s shoulder, and gently
combed his hair with my fingers.
“I love you too.
I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said in sleepy
tones. “But it’s too early,” he said, still in his dream
state. “I’ll feed you in the morning.”
