When Monty was a puppy, I hired a woman, Lynda, to take him out at lunch time and walk him. She was truly a dog whisperer and a lovely person to boot. Monty wasn’t house trained, nor was I in any position to train him.
I bought Monty at a [cringe] pet store about two weeks before my Dad died. I had always wanted a Corgi. For many years, the “sheds a lot” factor deterred me; however, on one week night, as I trolled the mall, avoiding going home (a.k.a. my life with my dying father), I had to go in and see if there were any Corgis at the pet store.
There was a Corgi caged up and looking very happy to see me. He was six-months old. And, he had been there for a while; I said to myself, “If it’s a male, I’m so getting him and naming him Montgomery.”
I asked if I could see him. They took him out and placed him in the visiting pen. He jumped up on my leg, and I asked, “Is he a boy?” The woman said, “Yes. He’s a male.”
I said “good-bye” to him. He went back to his cage. Before leaving, I placed a $25 deposit on him, and I went back the next day and got him after paying $750 more.
Anyway, Monty came home with me. Nathan was elated; however, within 10 minutes of exploring the upstairs, he left a small pile of dog dung on the floor. I knew that besides losing my father, I had just given myself another challenge.
I knew I had to hire a dog whisperer; and I can’t even remember how I got Lynda’s number. It was as if she magically appeared in my life. She had Monty trained, well, except for the barking thingy, in under a month.
Monty was an attempt to fill a hole left by an impending loss. Over time, Lynda became a dear friend. And, after my Dad died, she became a wonderful friend who made my empty life without my Dad whole again.
Anyway, Nathan was a bit shy then; however, he’d always go immediately to Lynda whenever he saw her and begin to chat with her. After he first did this, Lynda looked at me rather amazed. I said, “He knows good people, Lynda.”
A few months before, Nathan told me that his stepmother was “Mean and nasty and just didn’t know how to treat a little kid,” I took this as a sign that kids can see good people versus dead people. Though, like the layer of skin that allows them to wear only hoodies when it’s 35 degrees outside, it’s a phenomenon that is a gift of youth, yet it leaves a mark on those of us old enough to witness it. Kids know good people, “Period,” as my Mom used to say.
In my post last night, I mentioned a card that Iz had given me. In a heart on the card, she wrote Nathan (her brother), Liam (one of our cats), Monty (does he need any explanation at this point?!), and Brenda, one of my good friends.
I laughed and smiled when I saw the heart. If one of these things was not like the others, it was that Iz had included Brenda’s name in the heart. Brenda was a close friend; however, Iz didn’t see Brenda a lot.
Today, Brenda seemed just as amused as I was that she was included in the heart. As I thought about it more, I remembered back to the Lynda days -- kids have this incredible perception of people. Iz knew me well and knew I was upset; she knew the people (or animals) I loved well and wanted to be surrounded by.
As with Lynda, when I met Brenda, something magical happened. I felt like I had the older sister I always wanted yet when I sat in a parking garage in Newton talking to her before a job interview last June, I felt more like I had a mother again. I still feel that way.
Through all my struggles, she always prefaced her words of wisdom with, “I’m not trying to tell you what to do.” To me, that always said, “I love you, no matter what you do.” Even though she never said that, I loved hearing that in her voice.
I am blessed, because I have many wonderful girlfriends (Suze, the Lovelies, NancyS, and Amrit). I looked at the heart on Iz’s card again. And now, I look at my own; on December 4th this year (18 years since my Mom died) I will feel so much less alone, because I, like everyone else, love Brenda, too. ♥
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