Category Archives: Bonita

Sharing a Bed

One difference between dogs and people–or at least, well-adjusted people who have social skills–is that dogs have absolutely no qualms about staring at you.

They stare at you when they’re alarmed because you’re banging a bag of ice against the kitchen floor. They stare at you when they’re perplexed because you’re suddenly carrying toys they like to play with out of the house and putting them in the trunk of your Volkswagon. And they stare at you when they really, really don’t want you to put that dress on and leave the house because they still don’t fully trust that you’ll ever come home despite the fact that every time you’ve ever left before, you have.

And yes: they stare at you when they would much prefer to be sleeping in your bed, thanks.

And so, it’s official: Bonita and I are sleeping together.

I resisted.

First the nice and very reasonable-seeming people at Animal Humane told me it was a bad idea because she wouldn’t respect my authority. Then my mother told me it was a bad idea because I don’t sleep.

“You have insomnia, remember?” she said over the phone. “The last thing you need is something else to keep you awake.”

I’m terrible at making decisions, so when others make them for me–sometimes I accept. I placed Bonita on the chair beside my bed to spend the night.

“That looks small,” my father observed when I sent photos of her all curled up. “Does she need a bed?”

“If you want to spoil her like you spoil your other grandchildren…” was my reply. I aborted my own doggie bed search and kept her on the chair until the L.L. Bean box arrived containing her monogrammed, loden-colored gift.

Of course, by then she had adjusted to the chair–and every time I put her on it she stared at me, ears perked and head tilted, the way you might if I asked you, for no evident reason, to stand on a coffee table.

I thought taking her with me to Taos would be the perfect opportunity to get her accustomed. I packed her new bed with us and placed it at the foot of mine in our pet-friendly Sagebrush Inn hotel room. Instead she sprawled herself up on the crumpled pile of fallen blankets right beside it. She looked at me. By the second night, we were spooning.

And sure enough, our first night back in Albuquerque, she tried her luck at hopping up with me. And, whaddya know, I didn’t have the heart to turn her down. (That stare–I’m telling you.)

Frankly, I didn’t particularly want to either. I’ve been sleeping fine, actually, and quite enjoying the presence of something warm, soft and breathing in bed beside me.

I like companionship. Isn’t that why I got a dog?

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Managing Expectations, Chilling Out, and Talking Too Much

For various reasons, when I first met my long-term ex there was no part of my mind that imagined we’d wind up in a serious relationship. The attraction was there, immediate and absolute, but he was older. I had recently dated his best friend. I wasn’t sure I could hold a conversation with him.

Next thing I knew, of course, I was long-boarding in hot pink tights around downtown St. Paul and moving in with the guy. I can’t really tell you much more about how it transpired.

Except that I always think the fact that I didn’t expect anything is probably not unrelated to the fact that something did: rather than performing my usual routine of “what does he want?” “what do I want?” “where is this going?” panic, I relaxed. I let things happen naturally. I wasn’t anxious about it.

And whaddya know, it worked out.

Of course, as seems to be a recurring theme around here, there’s a whole lot of daylight between recognizing a pattern and actually doing something about it.

And this one, it turns out, is an especially challenging lesson to apply.

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Bonita and Me: An Update

Bon Bon attempting to cuddle while I blog

I know, it’s been a while: besides the new pup (on whom I have decided to henceforth blame every form of tardiness in my life) it has been simply too hot to blog.

Too hot to do anything besides drink Diet Cokes in the daytime and beers in the nighttime and fantasize about nonexistent bodies of water to the hum of an insufficient ceiling fan and the drone of a rather inept swamp cooler. Welcome to summer in New Mexico.

Anyhow, I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with baited breath beside your own (hopefully more efficient) cooling device for an update on the progress of mine and Bonita’s relationship.

And I must say it feels only appropriate to declare–after less than a week of knowing one another–that I am quite confident she is my perfect match.

I don’t mean that in the sense that we’re meant for each other, or that we’re soulmates–I don’t believe in that even when it comes to canines. But as far as her capacities as a lover are concerned, she is essentially my equal.

All she wants, after all, is to give and receive love. There would seem to be no one, person or dog–save the occasional hyper-agressive German Shephard around the corner–on whom she is not absolutely desperate to jump up and smooch.

Okay, so I’d like to think I’m a bit more discriminating.

But seriously, she is about as friendly a dog as I’ve ever encountered. And while she does like to follow me from room to room, from bathroom to couch, even in the middle of a nap, she would do the same for you if you happened to be nearby and breathing. (The other day at the dog park, she nearly went home with another woman.)

Okay, so I’d like to think I’m a bit more faithful.

She also, though, takes after me in stubbornness. Just try getting her to eat her breakfast when she’s still got to pee, or roll over off her back without at least a small session of belly scratching.

And yes, hopefully, I need be told fewer times to get out of a car’s front seat or, as the case may also be, someone else’s bed.

Having already been chided for attempting analysis of our budding companionship, I will resist the temptation to venture further comparison.

But I simply had to share how heavenly it is to find myself in the suddenly constant company of a being whose thirst for love and affection just about matches mine.

Even if said being is one who, every once in a while, eats a flip-flop.

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