In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee; in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes, how do you measure a year in life? How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love. Seasons of love.
Man, 2016 has been a doozy. You can really tell, because I'm using old-fashioned, fuddy-duddy terms like "doozy" and "fuddy-duddy." I guess that I, along with most of America, need to get a grip on a new reality. This was a tough year: we lost a lot, learned a lot, and talked a lot. (Seeing RENT again was very cathartic.)
In order to bolster a much-needed, happy new year, we have decided to add someone to our family this Christmas--instead of saying goodbye again, we're saying hello. Hello LuLu. Welcome home to start the loud, fun, and often-times ridiculous process of going full Tark.
I haven't managed to get a good picture of her yet (you'll understand why after reading more), but LuLu is a whippet mix (maybe pit-bull or hound?) who approximately 8 months old and 20 lbs. She too did not have a great 2016, and I can't even wrap my mind around what must have gone on in her short past. We adopted her today from the AMAZING organization Carolina Adopt-a-BULLS, a group of people whose dedication and endless generosity of spirit was as inspiring as this heart-meltingly adorable, four-legged survivor. When I reached out to set up a meeting so that we could meet the dog, they got her here all of the way from Charlotte just in case it was love at first sight (and it was).
We aren't sure what happened to LuLu in the first part of her life, but she spent the bulk of it in various shelters, shuffled around and scared. Most of what I know about her so far is that she is very worried about her future, and pretty scared of everything in general. The foster mom (who unworriedly peeled LuLu off of the floor of her backseat at the hand-off and plopped her into my car) assured me that this dog is putting on a shy facade, and described her has an "affectionate nut" (so she meets the requirements for Tarkhood).
The drive home was uneventful, and quiet. Upon arriving at home, I turned off the car and peeked into the backseat...LuLu was in the foot well with her tiny head crammed under the passenger seat, hiding. She did not seem to care that we were parked, and in the garage. She did not care that I was softly calling her name. She didn't move a muscle...she needed to not be seen.
Completely understanding that emotion (which usually happened to me when I had an unruly child in tow), I figured the best first thing for me to give her would be what she wanted: to be hidden. So I closed the garage door, left the car door open, and the door to the house open, and went about my business (which was doodling around, making conversation with myself, and working, i.e., a typical day of my life). After 10 minutes she hadn't budged. So I cut up some pot roast leftovers and took them in to the garage. I offered her one. She peeked out with one eye and re-hid with gusto. I left a nugget of greasy beef on the backseat (a huge act of love in my brand-new car!), and made a meat-crumb trail back into the house. After another 10 minutes I heard the tiny clicks of puppy toes on the garage floor. I waited, and still no dog.
Upon investigating, she had hopped out of the car, scarfed up most of the beef-trail, and clambered right back in, this time, into the front seat. Ahhh, progress! I thought to myself. Having run out of beef, I found a link sausage from Sunday's brunch and cut that into pieces. I opened the driver's door and shut the back door and then leaned in and offered her a piece. She looked at me, and slowly leaned over and pecked it out of my had. I plopped another piece on the driver's seat, and made another trail, this time leading further into the house.
I busied myself for another 10 minutes when I finally heard the joyous sound of puppy feet on the hardwood floor. We had accomplished a lot in 30 minutes! I felt encouraged. I opened the back door and resumed my mindless chattering and singing, tidying and working at my desk. She availed herself of the backyard, and ran back inside, and then out and in again, testing. I ignored it. She would scurry around the house, tentatively peeking around corners to keep one eye on me, and then scooting away if we made eye-contact. At least now she was naked in the house.
Finally, after another 30 minutes of being allowed to be incognito, she decided that she would investigate my office (where I spend most of my day, and where I have set up a crate for her). There was lots of loud sniffing, which I tried to not giggle at, and then she squeezed past me to settle under my desk, near my warm computer, where my sweet Stanley loved to nap. I found myself getting a little misty-eyed about all of the changes that have happened this year, when I heard a rustle of furry limbs, and felt a warm, quick doggy kiss on my knee. Our first physical contact, and I got all of the way to first base!! I'd say this inning is off to a good start.
