We call them fuzzy days…the kind of day where you don’t get up ’til after noon, eat all your food in bed, and never bath before 3:30…or perhaps not at all.
I make the critical decision to rise from bed at 4:30 and draw a bath. The water feels warm, cleansing. My body doesn’t seem to want to move today…a part of the detox I assume…but regardless it’s frustrating…at times my body just freezes up and moving becomes an extraordinary effort.
As I rinse shampoo from my hair, the doorbell rings…Kobi and Oscar are up barking in an instant. Fortunately it’s Sunday so Ron answers the door. I hear voices…a young female drones some sales pitch recitation…her dolcit tones drowned out by Golden Kobi and Little Guy Oscar who guard their territory with great ferocity, barking away, full tilt.
The soap just won’t wash clean from my hair…what’s going on down there? I dunk under the tub water swishing my head from side to side…finally my hair is squeeky clean and shampoo free…I slowly turn around and step from the shower tub grabbing a towel…it seems to take forever to dry off but somehow I manage more quickly than normal motivated by the downstairs noisy activity…it can be so frustrating to attempt moving quickly…I have visions of never fully completing any activity as they all take so long…
As soon as I think the thought I wipe the visual picture of being slow from my mind. Seeing my life and movement with positive eyes is an imperative in order to continue my healing process…
Towel covered, I run to the bedroom past shuddered windows and sneak a peak. A middle aged woman in pressed jeans and yellow t-shirt stands next to our gate watching a young perhaps ten year old girl all dressed up in Girl Scout greens talking to Ron…
And the dogs continue their dolcit tones howeling away…
I’ve watched Kobi over these past few years as he, from time to time, struggles with his hip displatia.
But he’s always ready to protect the front of the house…when he hears an unfamiliar sound, he’s up in a shot, ready to protect. It is his purpose, his joy and desire to be of service. And he likes his bark…it’s full of variety…with at least a three octave range.
Purpose is such a motivating force. It keeps Kobi young as he feels a sense of reposibility. I wonder at times whether he had been trained as a service dog as when I am home alone, Kobi is right there, at my thigh, never leaving my side.
Ron heads for his wallet on the dining room table. He forgot about the dogs who now breach the front door’s threshold wagging their tales sniffing the little Girl Scout’s box of sample cookies. I guess they’re not that commited to their guarding job…expecially when cookies are potentially involved…
“Hey Guys…come on” Ron always seems to get the boys to behave…they move back into the hallway waiting for their sample. Ron exchanges money for two boxes…sweet…I head back to bed all clean and now in a fresh oversized t-shirt. Golden Kobi and Little Guy Oscar run up the stairs jumping onto the bed claiming their fuzzy day spots. They look up at me reminding me to embrace these simple magical moments.
“You want milk with your cookies?” “Please” Who cares if I’m slower than the average bear? I snuggle under the covers happily waiting for food to magically arrive…yet another perfect fuzzy day…