The Daily Dickens: Today's Grind

With Dickens under the knife, I had these grand plans for organizing our kitchen.  Cleaning up.  Improving.  The Betty Crocker, Good Housekeeping, Martha Steward deep cleaning routine.

Instead I wrote, worried, and let the anxiety pour over me waiting for the phone call containing the his surgery results.  I designed a banner for this site.  I wandered over and worked on my book.  I reflected and meditated on questions from author Jon Katz over on Facebook.  Mom had her lunch.  If I weren't so wrung out, I would have tried pacing; however, writing helps me organize my thoughts, calm me down, and give me the space I need to get sorted. 

Jon asked the following:

Do we get the dogs we need?

Are they reflections of us? 

Just as I flipped Mom's grilled cheese and tomato sandwich, the phone rang.  The cheery voice of the vet at the other end.  Dickens came through the surgery well with one complication not associated with his "equipment."  The doctor noticed that he had an embedded baby tooth that should have fallen out last month.  She pulled the tooth much to my relief.  Dickens had a weird habit of grinding his teeth that no chew toy or treat could calm.  I had read that it could be anxiety, so I've been very low key around him so he feels safe.

The vet reported that Dickens sat in his crate awake and alert.  He'll be restricted for the couple of weeks (ever try to keep a Cairn Terrier out of circulation?), but otherwise he'll be fine.  True to his heritage he'll sport an Elizabethan collar during his recuperation, so neighbors can expect a cone head on a leash.  He'll take anti-inflammatory drugs and moist dog food until he heals.  It'll be a challenge as he does every day.

Now back to the answers to the questions Jon Katz posed.  I have no answers.  None.  Zilch.  I know that I've endured a lot of loss over the past 10 years, stuff that sends a soul reeling. He is not a reflection of me.  He might be a reflection of the care I provide; however, too many people have remarked that his eyes contain the inner wisdom of an old soul.  There's something.  I've seen it as well.  I know that  I had shut down over these past few months. I'd like to thinks Dickens sniffed out that last glimmer of light remaining in my heart.  He's got the challenge.

At the end of it all, the worry, the anxiety, and the cost brings my pup-boy back to me.  Where it will lead?  I don't know, but I'm grateful to have the chance to see.