Am I out of stories to tell?

A beloved has commented that I am doing less storytelling and more exploring of forces and values and loves in my life right now and wondered why the change.  I really had to stop and ponder the question.  I have already acknowledged feedback that "exile" is more dark than "uncleaving."  But why? 

To be  honest, many of the "stories" I could tell would be a bit damning to the main characters.  No true protagonists would explode onto the scene(s).  And that is really very sad.  I'm in a stage where the people in my life are either grossly disappointing or simply solid.  Disappointing can provide interesting tales! but I'm not ready to expose such shenanigans.  Maybe in the near/later future -- when their identities can be less obvious.  But for now I'm stuck with tales of not-so-dubious circumstances ... and those can fare less intriguing, right?  Everyone loves a good dirty laundry tale, though we shouldn't. ... "Identities have been changed to protect the ... GUILTY."  <snort>

So, in the interim, of what do I write?  Hmmm.  I'm doing laundry.  Whatever.  My house is dirty.  Yeh, what else is new?  I may have ten souls descending upon me for Thanksgiving and I should be panicking!!  Now that's a story, right?  Let's count beds ...

Once again I'm spending the evening with Allie, my faithful dog who swears she is in charge.  She sure is persevering sometimes -- standing at the edge of the kitchen (not allowed IN the kitchen) wagging her tail, ears perked, softly whimpering for a dog treat.  I'm trying to get her to stop that because it drives me nuts.  Begging is bad behavior.  I blame this on my kids who continue to feed her from the table against my wishes!  I hate a begging dog.  Sadly, though, she usually wears me down, not unlike the Persistent Widow of Jesus' parable wearing down the mean old king.  Keep praying keep praying keep praying -- translated to dog-speak:  keep whimpering keep begging keep wagging ... Who am I not to love my dog as God loves me?  So she gets the bone and the behavior is reinforced.  God, throw ME a bone, won't you please?!  Whatever.  Daughter, I already told this story!  http://reluctantlyuncleaving.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-true-alpha-female.html
 
But what I haven't written about is poor Allie's sensitivity.  A couple years ago, she began to have some real issues with her skin.  Her ears drove her crazy and had become course and stiff from some infection or something.  The skin on her belly started to turn black.  Her neck had become raw and the fur under her collar had fallen out, leaving her skin inflamed.  She was an itchy mess of a dog!  I was very distracted at that time with the business of death -- of keeping my kids afloat -- of making it through each day.  When I finally truly recognized Allie's discomfort, it was pretty advanced.  Guilty doesn't cover how badly I felt ... but human vs. dog ... humans took priority. 

The vet was able to give her a good steroid shot (the "silver bullet") for the itching -- and $50+ dollars' worth of ear ointment.  Add to that, a $30 bottle of antibiotic shampoo, the office visit and the regular exorbitant flea and heartworm meds ... I was paying more for my dog's healthcare than I had for David's!  (I'm freaking serious.)  Our vet was great -- very down-to-earth and understanding about my life situation/financial limitations, etc. and asked me if Allie and David were close.  She said it could be an emotional response to his death.  I had never considered that!
 

Hm.  Allie and David had a sort of Machiavellian kind of relationship.  I simply mean "cunning" here ... with a touch of self-servitude.  David was a snacker.  Allie is a snacker.  He wasn't really a dog person.  She isn't really a people dog (she won't fetch or play ... but does like to be the center of attention ...)  David and Allie had a relationship based on him doling out high-class snacks (almonds, cashews, pretzels, potato skins, combos ... anything in a crackle'y bag) and her continuously wagging her tail, perking her ears and giving him the loving eye in return.  When I was at work and the kids were at school, these two were constant companions -- especially during that last year of his life when he wasn't travelling as much.  They had a truly symbiotic relationship:  symbiosis (noun pl. sym-bi-o-ses) - 1. Biology - A close, prolonged association between two or more different organisms of different species that may, but does not necessarily, benefit each member; 2. A relationship of mutual benefit or dependence.

Yep.

But I thought there was more to it.  When David was in the Hospice House, I decided to take Allie to visit him.  I thought that he would respond positively to her and she would respond positively to him.  That wasn't the case!  He barely acknowledged her presence; she didn't even look at him.  It was almost as if the two of them already had an understanding:  It's over.  Move on.  I was stunned and perplexed.  Allie didn't make a return visit and David never asked about her at all. 

But after he died, her skin changed.  Why didn't I notice the possible connection?  I know full well that Allie is an emotional dog.  She can be quite vindictive when she decides that she's alone too much -- aka, neglected.  When the kids are at college and it's just me and I'm at work, or out shopping, or out at a rehearsal, or out with friends -- she's here all alone.  No crinkle'y crackle'y snack bag, no hand feeding her high-class snacks, no hand patting her head or voice speaking her name.  And no man of the house.  Allie is very female-oriented (I've always been the "boss") but David was her companion and he was gone.  Gone for good.

Everybody thinks the RBD is a "sweet dog."  And most of the time, she is.  But when she wants to be a meanie, she is a meanie.  Over the last year when I have spent too many hours away from the house or, God forbid, a night or two! I come home to her having clawed-down the blankets and pillows from all the chairs and sofas.  ????  In the sitting room, the family room, my bedroom -- all game.  I travelled up to the college this past weekend to see my kids.  I figured I would prevent all the dragging-down of stuff by putting guitars on sofas and boxes on chairs. That worked!  She was stymied!  So, instead, she clawed-down two heirloom quilts from a quilt rack in my upstairs hallway.  That made me pretty angry.

Anyone who says that dogs aren't vindictive don't have an Allie.  She punishes me for every moment she spends alone.  She actually does relax over the summer when there are more souls at home, but right now, she's miserable and quite intent on making me the same.  Some of you may be thinking, "Gee ... a couple pillows ... blankets ... some dog hair. What's the big deal?!"  I know.  It sounds petty.  But it's bigger than that.  It's the punishment that she is imposing on me when all I'm doing is trying to live this life I have -- to be a good mother -- a good friend -- a formidable church lady, etc.  I don't need to come home to judgment that I'm a bad dog mistress -- or whatever.  In the end, I didn't ever want a dog!  So I get a little bitter.  I know you dog lovers are mad at me now.  But I'm not getting that promised unconditional love from my dog.  I'm being punished -- over and over -- day after day.  It's terrible.

But she's my only companion in this moment.  She knows I'm mad at her, so she's not even begging for a treat.  She went upstairs, defeated.  We will make-up -- maybe tomorrow -- maybe the next day.  We have no choice but to be each other's symbiotic partner now.  We weren't made to be that for each other -- we were made to vie for the alpha position.  Sorry, old girl -- but it will always be me.  Still, she is VERY cute and very sweet, aside from the misbehaving and I do love her.  Good grief.  I need to get out more.

Two days later ... I came home from a 13 hour day at the church and just loved on Allie.  She moaned with relief at being forgiven -- for she had not been destructive in my absence.  She came when I called and was forgiving, too.  Everything is back in balance for now.  Oh how peace ebbs and flows ... Right now peace as I bake sweet potato soufflé, green bean casserole and pumpkin pies ahead of a busy Thanksgiving holiday where souls will come together in joy and love.  Allie will be right in the midst of it all, begging for some turkey meat.  <sigh> 

But when everyone goes home or back to college, it will just be the two of us again.  And she'll be right down here in the pit alongside me.  It's good to have company.