This is Not a Rebel Song
My dog is a Golden RETRIEVER and that means that she wants to carry stuff in her mouth. I reward her with things to carry. When she goes in her crate or out of her crate, I offer her one of her many stuffed toys and she carries them with her. She piles them around the house. She offers her ratty toys to the cats as peace offerings (they are doubly offended that she would approach them and that she would offer them such a digusting gift). When she is in the yard she is constantly rearranging sticks and leaves and balls and whatever else she can find on the ground. It makes walks interesting. Usually she carries sticks, but she also picks up paper cups, fast food wrappers, kleenex, unidentifiable garbage.
"Drop it," I say, and she will drop it into my hand for me to dispose of.
Retrievers are gross, but they are also obedient.
A couple of days ago she picked up a stick and carried it the last block home. When we got to the house I said, "Drop it," and tried to take the stick from her. What dropped into my hand was the full vertebrae of a squirrel. I realized in horror that she had picked up the spine of the squirrel that has been rotting on the corner since the fall. I have watched as it flattened, dried, got buried by snow, reappeared in the defrost, and now here I was holding the spine of a squirrel.
Disgusting and possibly disease ridden, yes, but also really fascinating.
The image seared itself in my brain and I see spines on people around me and my animals and picture the spine I held in my hand.
It's been a trying couple of weeks. Last night we had lentil tacos and went to a band concert. Baths, report supervision, dishes, etc. I talked with the teen about some boy drama.
Moms don't get a lot of support. We give a lot, but the thanks is often an afterthought.
"You didn't make corned beef and cabbage this year," the teen commented as she went up to bed.
"I wasn't up to it this year," I said. And left on my own on the main floor, I pulled out my favorite U2 album and decided to finish off St. Patrick's Day with my favorite Irish men. I turned the volume way up and lay on the floor so I could feel the music through the floorboards. The kids stood on the stairs and yelled at me that the music was too loud. I yelled back that I just wanted to listen to one album. And then I relaxed into the floor and let the guitar become my spine.
"Drop it," I command myself.
"Drop it," I say, and she will drop it into my hand for me to dispose of.
Retrievers are gross, but they are also obedient.
A couple of days ago she picked up a stick and carried it the last block home. When we got to the house I said, "Drop it," and tried to take the stick from her. What dropped into my hand was the full vertebrae of a squirrel. I realized in horror that she had picked up the spine of the squirrel that has been rotting on the corner since the fall. I have watched as it flattened, dried, got buried by snow, reappeared in the defrost, and now here I was holding the spine of a squirrel.
Disgusting and possibly disease ridden, yes, but also really fascinating.
The image seared itself in my brain and I see spines on people around me and my animals and picture the spine I held in my hand.
It's been a trying couple of weeks. Last night we had lentil tacos and went to a band concert. Baths, report supervision, dishes, etc. I talked with the teen about some boy drama.
Moms don't get a lot of support. We give a lot, but the thanks is often an afterthought.
"You didn't make corned beef and cabbage this year," the teen commented as she went up to bed.
"I wasn't up to it this year," I said. And left on my own on the main floor, I pulled out my favorite U2 album and decided to finish off St. Patrick's Day with my favorite Irish men. I turned the volume way up and lay on the floor so I could feel the music through the floorboards. The kids stood on the stairs and yelled at me that the music was too loud. I yelled back that I just wanted to listen to one album. And then I relaxed into the floor and let the guitar become my spine.
"Drop it," I command myself.
posted by Lea at 6:04 AM
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