David & the Dogs

Big D and I decide to go to the movies after dropping K off at the airport. I want something to occupy my mind as I adjust to having my daughter go back to college. I watch as she walks towards security at the airport. I am so very aware that gone are the days when family members or friends can meet loved ones at the gate unless they get special permission ahead of time. We often do not realize how much we will miss a simple act until we cannot do it anymore yet there are so many children who will never know the experience of greeting a grandparent at the gate when they come to visit or hugging a parent as they exit the plane after a business trip.

As D and I walk out to the car, he says, “Don’t worry, mom! K will be back at spring break and that is just 8 weeks away.” True. By the time she gets back for spring break, it will be March. Magical March, I am calling it. There will be signs of spring and life beyond the cold that greets me each January morning making me wish we could still be in Newport Beach living at a beach house like we were the last week of 2008.

Back in our home town, we pick up my mom on our way to watch Marley & Me. The movie is funny and sentimental. Every dog owner in the audience could most likely identify with the yellow Labrador’s antics. I find myself realizing that as much as I grumble about my own two lab’s stunts, they have never caused near as much trouble as Marley did. I scold myself for not walking my own dogs as much as I should. “A New Year’s resolution?” I ask myself.

Towards the end of the movie, I watch my son dab his eyes with a Kleenex; then, I hear the sobs that build as his shoulders shake. I have not heard my son sob since his grandmother died over a year ago so I am struck by the similarity and depth of grief. After the movie ends, we sit for a few more minutes while the credits run so that D can compose himself. He looks down as he walks out of the theatre, holds up his container of soda pop as a shield, and focuses on drinking with his eyes down to hide any trace of tears as we exit in building into the fading afternoon daylight. As we come in the door of the house, D walks right to the back sliding door and opens it for our two Labradors.

“I love you guys,” he whispers as he hugs them both and proceeds to feed them dinner. Hmm, he actually didn’t have to be asked to feed them dinner tonight. Score for the movie! As I make D’s dinner, he recalls the story of Maddie, our Chocolate Lab’s arrival, six years ago in 2003. It is close to Valentine’s Day and I am having dinner with some girl friends when I call home to check on the family.

K whispers to D, “Don’t tell her.”
D keeps pulling at phone receiver, “ I want to talk to mom.”
“Mom, I have a secret.”
“What is your secret, honey?”
“We got you a dog for Valentine’s Day!” Eight-year-old D’s voice bubbles over with excitement. He cannot contain his happiness a second longer. I hear my daughter yell, “Oh, D. You ruined the surprise!”

D often mentions this story and how he regretfully told the secret. But the truth of story is that none of us really minded. I remember being so happy about this unexpected surprise. Our Malamute had died a year and a half earlier, and I had been bugging my husband to get another dog. My husband also had been told that Maddie was the runt of the litter, but the joke was on us as she grew to be a tall, lean 95 lbs. We call her a "horse" as she can easily edge her nose on the counter looking for her favorite: butter! We have been surprised a few times by an empty plate where a fresh stick of butter had just been.

Then the following autumn, I bring home, Annie (already named), a yellow Lab, from the Lab Rescue to keep Maddie company while we are at work. For some reason, I think this is good. (I actually still do even though there are times when I wonder what I was thinking!) Both dogs are a year old at the time and immediately become close "sisters" -- which now means we can never separate them for any reason -- grooming, kennel, etc. The only time they are a part is when Annie sleeps on K’s bed since Maddie sleeps on the floor next to our bed.

So here we are in January 2009 as Maddie & Annie search the house for K. They saw the suitcase yesterday so they know something is up, but they do not know where she has gone. D reassures Annie who is always a little more nervous-acting because of past abuse as a puppy before we adopted her that K will be home again.

For rest of the evening, D watches “Beethoven” movies on the Disney Channel as I watch him laugh with sweet joy as he recaps some moments for me from the movies. I am once again reminded that he is not the typical 14-year-old teenager. His autism has kept him younger sometimes in frustrating ways and other times in such dear, sweet ways such as responding to a movie with compassion and feeling. And this afternoon a day after the movie in a moment of pure sweet love and spontaneity , D and I take the dogs for a walk which means as much to us as it does to our dogs.