A Widow Redefined (23 page)

She could go to hell. I punched my pillow to fluff it and reached over and turned off the light.

•••••

Sunday morning the house buzzed with energy. It felt like Christmas. We ate our breakfasts, then scurried around, washing dishes and showering. We climbed into the car and, after arriving at our destination, sprung from our seats like Jack in the Box toys.

The shelter had big dogs, small dogs, even puppies. I walked the rows, staring at each prisoner. I soon realized if I looked too long at any one of them, it would feel like tiny arrows were piercing my heart. I loved them all, but I wanted Tyler to choose. This was for him.

Tyler walked slowly, up and down the aisles several times, stopping once and a while to make baby talk with a few of the dogs. I was surprised he didn’t want one of the puppies, but I kept my mouth shut.

“I like him,” Tyler said, pointing to a scruffy, caramel-colored terrier mix. “Can I see him out of the cage?”

“Let me go and get someone to let him out,” I said.

Mom had already found someone and they were on their way over. “Okay,” the man said. “This is Moose. Let me tell you a little about him.”

The three of us stopped and gave him our undivided attention.

“Moose was found in his family’s backyard after their house had gone into foreclosure.”

Mom and I looked at each other. We both knew where this story was going.

The man continued, “The neighbors heard him barking and didn’t know who he belonged to since the people had already moved away. They found him with empty food dishes, his hair matted and dirty, lying next to one of his toys.” The shelter attendant pointed at the dog toy. A well-worn braided green and white rope.

“So we picked him up and had him checked out. He’s in good health. He was just hungry and in need of a bath. Now he’s ready for his forever home.”

I looked at Moose. His eyes were a warm, chocolate brown. His hair was caramel in some spots, beige in others. Despite all he’d been through, he seemed upbeat, panting and wagging his tail.

“I’d like to play with him,” Tyler told the man.

The attendant leaned over and opened the cage. Moose bounded out, full of energy. He jumped up and began licking Tyler’s face.

Tyler laughed, then reached in and grabbed his rope toy and threw it. The dog ran down the slippery tile floor to catch it. When he returned, he wanted to play tug of war.

Tyler petted the top of his scruffy head. “I think he likes me.”

“He definitely does,” Mom agreed.

“Is he the one you want?” I asked.

Tyler and the terrier with a sorrowful past stared at each other, like they were Zen masters. Then, the funniest thing happened. Moose seemed to smile.

“Yes,” Tyler replied.

With that decided, Mom and I got up to sign the paperwork. Tyler continued to throw the rope for Moose, and the dog chased after it each time. Of course, we weren’t prepared with pet supplies, so we loaded Moose into the car with us and went back home. Then I left to run to the store and get the items the shelter attendant said we’d need.

When I got back, Tyler and my mom were in the yard playing with the dog. It was one of those moments I wanted to remember, so I stopped to watch before joining them. The sun shone partially through the trees, illuminating them as they ran in and out of bright patches of light. Moose’s bark combined with their laughter and I stood there absorbing it all. I wished Justin could’ve seen it.

I opened the door to join them and noticed the air had grown a little colder. Autumn was coming. I was grateful. It was my favorite season.

I stepped into the commotion. Moose ran from Tyler to my mom to me, and back to Tyler again. His energy was endless. It was hard to believe someone had left him behind. I decided to stop thinking of it though and enjoy the fact that he was with us now, forever.

The rest of the evening we did everything we could to make our new family member comfortable. We set up his food and water area. We attached his nametag to his collar, and left his leash lying by the front door. His bed was placed on the floor next to Tyler’s. The air was filled with the word
Moose,
over and over again.

The three of us came up with a plan for his bathroom needs. Mom would let him out in the morning, and during the day. She’d be in charge of picking up and cleaning out back. Tyler would walk Moose after school, giving him exercise and fresh air. It would be their special time. Then I’d walk him once more after dinner, for his evening bathroom break.

With the fine details figured out, everyone kicked back on the sofa. We stared at Moose. He lay resting on the floor in the center of the room, sleeping. He was worn out.

“I love him,” Tyler said, wearing a smile that lit up his whole face.

“Me too, honey.” I looked over at Mom to see what she had to add, but she’d fallen asleep.

“Do you think he misses the other people? The family that left him behind?” he asked.

“I’m sure he does. But… they’re gone now, and he has us. We’re going to take good care of him.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed.

The night lingered and we sat and watched Moose sleep. It was like we were hooked on some new reality show. Everything he did fascinated us. We couldn’t get enough. It was hard to believe we’d finally done it.

Monday morning, my mind wandered to Sabrina and how pissed off she’d made me, but then Moose came into my room and poked his head under the blankets.

“Hey boy,” I said. “Come here.”

I rubbed the top of his head and he jumped up onto the bed. Then he rolled over on his back and exposed his tummy for rubs.

“You’re so sweet,” I said in a cooing tone. “Yes you are.”

Moose lay there peacefully, enjoying the attention. I could play with him all day long and not get bored. I had no desire to leave for work. But, I had to make money to support the family, and he was now a part of ours, so I forced myself to get up, shower and leave. Mom and Tyler assured me they’d keep him plenty busy.

I told Barb and Fatima right away. They were excited for us about the new addition. Then I explained how he came to be at the shelter.

“That’s criminal!” Barb said.

“It should be,” I said.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Fatima asked.

I didn’t. But his picture was still up at the Petfinder site. I clicked to it.

“There he is,” I said, with the pride of a parent whose child has just won an award.

“He’s handsome,” Barb commented.

Fatima agreed.

•••••

Monday night couldn’t come quickly enough. When I got home, I found Tyler in his room, creating a pencil sketch of Moose.

“Hey honey. How’s our boy?”

Tyler sat up. “Oh, he’s good. I walked him right after school and I picked up his poop with the bag—gross!” he exclaimed, while making a sickened face.

“Well, you know that’s part of it.” The second I said the words, I realized I’d have my chance to experience the same thing after dinner.

Throughout our meal, I noticed something different in our house. There was a feeling of fullness. It was like we had found something we didn’t know we’d been missing. And now that we had it, things were just right. There was balance.

Tyler offered to do the dishes with Mom so I could walk Moose. I changed into gym shoes, and attached the leash to Moose’s collar.

“Don’t forget this,” Tyler said, while handing me a plastic bag.

I took it from him and smirked. This wouldn’t bother me. I had changed diapers and raised him, after all.

It was chillier outside than it looked. I grabbed a light jacket and headed down the street, Moose gently pulling me. He didn’t pull on the leash like I’d expected. He was very well-behaved. Once he got my pace, we moved forward together, in sync.

I made it to the end of the block and wondered how he would do with jogging. I looked down at Moose. He looked back at me, his expression almost saying “just do it!” So I stepped things up. He kept even stride. As I jogged, I periodically checked on him to see if he was okay. He was trotting with plenty of energy. What the heck, I thought. I’m going to run. I glanced at Moose and imagined him giving me the paws up to go for it.

I started running at full speed. I hadn’t done that in years. If I hadn’t been swimming and working out with my family, I wouldn’t be able to run at all. It felt good, though, almost like I was moving in slow motion. I peeked at Moose. He ran with the style and grace of a winning horse.

Within ten minutes, my heart was pounding hard in my chest. I’d pushed it too far. I slowed down and began walking, and as we turned the corner, Moose paused and found a place to do his business.

When we got back home and I took off Moose’s leash, he ran straight to Tyler’s room. Then I went to the garbage and threw away the bag of poop, washed my hands, and collapsed on the sofa. I was tired, and I was elated. I couldn’t wait to do it again tomorrow.

After I cleaned up in the bathroom, I noticed I’d gotten a voicemail. I was hesitant to check it. I didn’t want Sabrina to ruin my evening. I finally gave in. It was Josephine. She had to cancel this week’s lesson because she had the flu.

The rest of the week I was in great spirits. Moose had that effect on people. He even seemed curious about Tyler’s parkour routine. So curious, in fact, that we had to lock Moose indoors otherwise Tyler couldn’t practice. Moose kept finding his way under Tyler’s feet.

I sat on the sofa drinking a cup of green tea. I rubbed Moose’s head and hoped he was just as happy to be here as we were to have him. Did he miss his old family?

It didn’t matter now, I thought. He was one of us.

I
read somewhere that petting a cat can lower your blood pressure. I wasn’t sure what dogs could do. All I knew was what Moose had accomplished, and in such a short time.

Over the course of a few weeks, my life had gone through a major transformation. No area was left untouched. My workdays went smooth. Everything just flowed. My physical health improved. I was relaxed, yet my muscles felt toned. The poor-postured, flabby woman I was before was no longer. Maybe Moose didn’t do all that. Maybe it was a cumulative process, and I just hadn’t paid close enough attention. But I was happy to give him credit.

Each night we ran together amidst the autumn landscape. As my feet hit the pavement and I heard his paws shuffle through the golden, crunchy leaves, I felt my heart grow lighter.

I was set free.

I didn’t even know I was a prisoner until I’d escaped. I was full of layer upon layer of anger for Sabrina. Because of what she did, and because of what she would’ve done if she had had the chance. I hated her for all those reasons. But what hurt most was the deception of our friendship. If she felt something for Justin years ago, so be it, but she shouldn’t have tried to befriend me.

Each night as Moose and I ran, I realized I didn’t need to understand the “why” of her choices. It no longer mattered. All the Irish anger I’d built up on the subject simply vanished.

A few more weeks passed peacefully. Sabrina didn’t call or email me. She respected my request and stayed away. Josephine got over her cold and Tyler and I brought her pictures of Moose. There was a lot of play time around the house. Mom got an Elvis cookbook from the library and we made fried peanut butter banana sandwiches. We rented a slew of great movies. Even my boss, Dave, seemed happier. No doubt he’d solved his family problems, whatever they were.

On Halloween Mom surprised us by buying Moose a pumpkin costume. Tyler dressed up as Charlie Brown, and I stayed in jeans and a sweater. The weather was cool but not rainy, which was great for trick-or-treating.

As we walked the neighborhood together, Tyler asked me a question. “Hey Mom. Do you think you’re ever going to make up with your friend?”

I couldn’t see my son’s face because it was covered by his mask. I was surprised because this was the first time he’d mentioned her in weeks. The answer was easy. I would never see Sabrina again. We weren’t kids who’d had a minor disagreement that could be smoothed over.

“I don’t think so T.” I said.

“Whenever I’ve gotten into fights with someone, you’ve always told me to say I’m sorry,” Tyler blurted out.

I hated when children were wise enough to use your own words against you. But surely this wasn’t that kind of situation.

“You know honey, it’s not that kind of fight. It’s a complicated grown-up thing. And in this case, it’s not me who needs to say sorry.”

Tyler paused, then reached for a piece of candy and pulled his mask off to eat it. “Want one?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Tyler handed me a mini Snickers. “Well,” he sighed, while chewing his chocolate bar, “Maybe she should apologize.”

Tyler threw the candy wrapper into his bucket and put his Charlie Brown mask back on. How could I tell him that she already had? He might be an old soul, but he could never understand the complexities of the situation. He was too young.

“You know what?” I said. “It doesn’t really matter to me anymore. Maybe sometimes you’re only meant to know someone for a short time.”

“I guess,” he agreed.

We noticed a large group of kids congregating in front of a particular house. “They must have the good candy,” Tyler exclaimed. “Sour Patch Kids, WarHeads… let’s go there next.”

We crossed over and rang the doorbell. The woman filled his pail with Lemonheads and Sour Patch Kids. She had the mother lode of kid candy. I didn’t even ask how he knew that. I just snagged a box of his Lemonheads and began to eat them.

In a short time, it was getting dark. We’d amassed an array of treats to last us a whole week. Moose had even scored himself a biscuit. The rest of the night Mom, Tyler, and I overindulged in one piece of candy after another. We knew we’d get sick to our stomachs later, but it was tradition.

The next morning I woke up to cold, rainy, gray. The beautiful Indian summer was over. We’d been lucky on Halloween. It was cool and crisp, but the kids didn’t have to layer heavy coats over their costumes.

I didn’t mind the dreariness because it was Saturday. And it was good sleeping weather. All I had planned was to run errands, do some grocery shopping, and go with Tyler to see an indoor parkour event.