I experienced my first freak out today. One that has postponed my planned move in date with the boy.
Today was the planned day for me to take Otis, my older dog, to my parent’s place to stay temporarily during the move and settling process.
SIDENOTE: Otie has never handled change well. He stresses, and when he stresses he gets sick. Poor guy. He’s always been my special boy…even at less than a year old. He grew up at my parent’s place with my parent’s dogs so it is like his second home. My parent’s place is sort of a hotel for animals (all walks—they have 13 acres) so he’ll be happy as a clam. Much happier than he’ll be with the chaos of moving. END SIDENOTE.
So the plan was to take Otis to the ‘rents place tonight so we could do the big, final move this weekend and settle. I’d have next weekend to clean my place and paint back the one accent wall I painted “Merlot” and the following weekend to tie up any loose ends and turn in my keys on Monday the 31st.Golden. Not so much.
Last night I found myself thinking, “This is the last time I’m going to sleep in this bed, alone, with Otis.” “This is the last late-night walk we’re going to go on in this neighborhood.” Can’t lie, at one point I laid on the floor talking to him, petting him and crying a little. Then today I thought, “This is the last time we’re going to go on these long after-work walks in this neighborhood” “This is the last time things will be simple, just me and my boy.”
Basically, I’ve felt like everything I’m doing is for the last time, as if him or I are dying tomorrow. Minutes after hanging up the phone with my mom telling her I’m on my way, I broke into tears, called her back, and said I wasn’t coming. I’m not ready, I’ll do it next weekend. I want to spend one more week with him. Here. Why so soon? Why am I rushing? I can move next weekend, and clean, and paint. Sure. Just one more week in my one bedroom apartment with my boy. Freak. Out.
With me, there’s always a deeper issue. Yes, I feel bad leaving my boy. Valid. I feel like I am abandoning him. But it’s temporary. Yes, he’ll have to adjust to the new diggs, new dogs, but he’s a dog. He’ll do it. So what’s really going on? Whelp, this is an ending for me, and and ending for me and Otis. It will no longer be just me and my boy. It has been him and I for the past 3 years (minus the past couple months since we’ve added Miss. Harlow to the mix). It took me a while to get used to it. Then even longer to imagine it any other way. He’s been with me through some tough times. He laid beside me on the nights I cried on the floor. He stuck his wet nose on me on the days I didn’t want to get out of bed. He has been my rock. I feel like we pulled through the break up of my past 5-year relationship together, we learned to live on our own together, (and now I feel like a retard for being so sentimental about my dog as if he’s a person, but it is what it is). My ex gave me Otis as a gift. We were Mommy and Daddy. But we moved on. Together.
I’m proud of myself for getting over the heartbreak and learning to live on my own. It was rough. Extreme ups and downs. At times it felt like hell and boy was it a learning experience. One I’d never trade. One I’d do all over again.
I guess I’m just a little afraid to let it all end. Up until this point I’ve been nothing but excited about this move. Now me, true to form, rethink everything. I know the boy is afraid I’m going to back out. I know he is. I’m not going to. But I am afraid. I’m sad to say goodbye to the life I’ve created for myself, alone. Is it OK to be happy for my future but sad to say goodbye to my past?
Ugh, I just don’t want to say goodbye to my boy. Even temporarily. In my eyes, he represents so much to me. More than just a wrinkly cuddle bug and a cold, wet nose.
So tonight was my first setback. Question is, will it be my last?