Not Just A Pet

Sometimes people have a 'dog' and it is only that - a dog. For some, pets don't become a member of the family. They are an object, an inconvenience, something to be moved around and traded in for another model when they become too old, big, or grumpy. Could you imagine if we did that? I wonder how many of us would trade in our kids if they did something wrong. Seems drastic, right? But owners get rid of their pets for ridiculous reasons, like moving to an apartment that doesn't allow pets, or their new boyfriend doesn't like cats. 

This won't happen with my boys. My boys are a part of my family. A part of heart. A piece of my soul. I would, quite literally, throw myself in front of a bus for them. While it seems entirely stupid thinking back on it, I actually once put my hand in the mouth of a dog who was biting Dixon's neck, just so I could get him off. I call them my boys, because referring to them as 'pets' belittles the relationship I have with them. 

Here's a story for you. 

The other night I received a text from my ex, we're friends and share Oliver so it wasn't unusual. He mentioned in his message that it was his dad's birthday. This caused my eyes to well with tears instantly. You see, I love my ex's father. I always will. And the night we lost him will forever be one of the most gutting moments of my life. So, here I am, crying, because I was sad and that's expected and the correct human emotion to have, and over comes Dixon. He crawls up onto the chair with me and starts licking my face, but then he does something he's never done before. He starts rubbing his head against mine, like he's nuzzling, and he keeps doing it, over and over, until I stop crying and am laughing. Then, he settles in beside me. 

There will always be those skeptics who doubt the relationships animals can have with people. Naysayers be damned. I feel sorry for those who have never had a dog as a best friend, who have never felt how rewarding it is to love and be loved unconditionally in return, to never have felt the healing power of animals.  

Sure, I might just be anthropomorphizing (giving human qualities to animals), but every time I come home Oliver is happy to see me. When I go to bed, he comes with me. And when he is sick, he wants me to hold him. When they are scared, they seek me out for comfort. I give, they take, but what they return to me is love. It's unconditional, no strings attached, heartwarming love. 

Which is why I am putting my boys on me for the rest of my life. Because they aren't just pets. And thanks to the Sidekick, Oliver was finished today. Just between us, I can't be happier. Now for Dixon on my other thigh!

Take Me Home

One of my most lovely friends posted an interesting blog about home. How he longs for home, even when he is in the house he is living. In all my wisdom, I replied with my own thoughts on home. How it's more a feeling than a place. They, whoever 'they' are, have two different sayings.

Home is where you hang your hat.

This isn't the case. We can have an apartment, house, or basement suite and still not feel at home in our space. Because our hearts long for something more. If you are alone in your dwelling, or if there are toxic vibes or ill will from those you live with, well that space can be very un-home-like.

Home is where your heart is.

This is more apt, I think. I remember growing up and well into my twenties, my home was where my parents were. In the beginning, it was because that's all I knew. When I got older, it was because they offered me a space where I could simply be and not be judged or have anyone expect anything from me. I loved them. They loved me. Being in their presence was my home because they gave me peace and safety and a comfort zone. Nothing was ever going to happen to me while I was with my parents.

You can find this peace, safety and comfort in the presence of other people. Like your Sidekick. Or, for instance, friends and family. My sister is most definitely home for me. When I'm with my sister, there is this overwhelming home feeling. There are other people too, like my ex-boyfriend, which seems kind of weird. Still, when I am around him, in his space, at his house, in his truck, I am comfortable and at peace and loved. So I am home. Friends like Rebs and Bots and Leppy all extended themselves to me for such a long time that I will never be uncomfortable around them. They have offered me their homes and made it my own.

So, I truly feel home is where your heart is.

Even more, though. Home is where you are. I think you carry your home within you. I am at home in the woods and at the beach. I am at home in my truck driving down island. I am at home in my bed with my boys. I am at home wherever I am.

Maybe that's because I love myself. Accept myself. Enjoy my time alone. Because my heart is inside me and it doesn't want to be anywhere else.

Regardless, home isn't a structure in my opinion. It isn't made of wood or brick. The amount of rooms or type of flooring do not matter. Sure, you can build a house and raise a family in it, you can fill it full of the most wonderful memories and that house can feel like a home. But those memories will still exist if the house doesn't. Don't get me wrong. I want that sort of home too. A safe haven where everyone I love can come when they are broken and I will heal them with baked goods and magical forest walks.

But isn't that wherever I am. Wherever I go. Which is why I say home is a feeling. You should be carrying it inside you every day. Whatever place you live in. There is this world. Our world. And everyone you love lives here, or has lived here. Isn't that comforting? Space and time are inconsequential when love is involved.
You are home because you are here. Because you exist and the word is yours. As it is mine.