Living Left Handed - Part 1

 

She slipped on ice and broke her right wrist. Being right-handed this posed an entire series of never before considered problems.

The day after the ER visit she bent over to put on Finn’s leash and collar and nearly blacked out from the pain. She stayed bent over, sniffling as tears filled her eyes, trying to breathe, trying to stay calm. Finnegan looked at her.

“Human Woman, are you broken?” he whispered.

She nodded, grasping her splinted arm, determined not to panic in front of him. She knew his anxiety would shoot sky high if she didn’t get a grip on herself.

“Ok, it’s ok.” She panted. “I’ll figure it out. Give me a sec.”

His eyes softened. And then he did something he had never done in his 8 years. He bent his head and carefully picked the leash up in his mouth. He carried it to the front door and turned to look at her.

In a muffled voice he said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I got this.”

She hiccupped on tears. He’d never called her that before. Her heart, deflated by panic and pain, suddenly filled with determination. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and reached for the leash again.

“Let’s get this one together, boo bear.” She whispered.

He gently pushed his head between her shins, patiently waiting the full seven minutes it took for her to get his collar buckled on and the leash attached. She no longer wondered why the left hand had been created. Clearly the universe knew she would need it someday. Even if it reacted like an amoeba to the simplest of commands. It waved when she told it to grab a spoon, it flailed when she asked it to hold her toothbrush, and when shown a pen for the first time in its life it played dead.

It balked at the leash and collar but she calmly talked it through each step and waited, time and time again, when it freaked out and dropped everything with the cry of "I can't! I'm not supposed to do hard labor! I'm just here to look pretty!" Eventually, the task was finished and her left hand, giddy with new found capability, tried to high five her right hand. But that turned out not to be such a good idea. 

She smiled as she straightened. With all of her accomplishments, this one felt the best. She could handle this setback. She could take her little buddy outside to potty. She might not be able to use a fork or write with a pen or button her pants left handed without lying down, but she could Walk. Her. Dog.

“You’re gonna rock the poop bag.” Finn teased.

Oh crap. She’d forgotten about that. She opened the door and they stepped out into winter.

“Watch the ice, Human Woman.”

“You’re so not funny, Finn.”

As they walked around the corner, their laughter crackled in the frozen air, warming it. They were going to get through this, one poop bag at a time. She mentally added up just how many poop bags that would take. And then she decided to stop using math for the next ten weeks.

Yes. That was a much better plan.

The Value of Love

“Human Woman, what are you doing?” Finn asked, nose tipped up, scenting the air.

“Making a candle,” she answered

“What is that smell? Fruity.”

“It’s Smitten Kitten. And yes, it’s fruity. Valentine’s Day is coming up and this is always a popular fragrance.”

“What’s Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s the day we show our love for the special people in our lives.”

He stopped sniffing the air and sat down, hind legs sticking out in typical corgi fashion. His eyes bored into hers, liquid chocolate in their intensity.

“A single day? For celebrating love?”

“Yes,” she smiled down at him, knowing there was more to that question.

“Interesting.”

“How so?” she poured the hot wax into the container and glanced at him again as she set the pot aside.

“Dogs celebrate love every single day, not just one single day. Why do humans limit themselves?”

She looked at him, he looked back at her. “You’re right, Finnie. We should be excited about love every single day. We should give roses and chocolate and…”

“Cookies,” he interjected. “Cookies are always a good way to show your love. And belly rubs.”

“Yes. Cookies and belly rubs every single day.”

“Damn straight, Human Woman. Dogs don’t put love up on a pedestal. We live love. We lap it up like water and treats. It’s part of our daily diet. Why do humans separate it out from their daily lives? Why don’t they just live it even if it’s not romantic love? Why don’t you celebrate all types of love?”

So many questions! She plunked down on the floor in front of him, “Want a belly rub?”

“See how easy that was?” he wet-nosed her outstretched hand before rolling over onto his back.

As she sat there, thinking about it, she wondered why it was always romantic love that got the party, the attention, the spotlight. Why not all types of love? Finn’s hind leg thumped softly on the linoleum. She grinned.

He’s right, she thought, if we could make each other this happy every single day, just by showing a little love, we wouldn’t need to be told we were special on just one single day. We would simply live love, breathe it in as automatically as we breathe air. It would be part and parcel of our lives, no matter what kind of love or where it came from.

 And then she understood what Valentine’s Day could never teach, that the special attention, the excitement, and the pretty treats are great, but the consistent heart, during all of the ups and downs of life, is greater.

"Hey Finn," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Want a cookie?"

"I love you, too, Human Woman. I love you, too."

 

 

Corgi-Speak, Upright Do

And now for the interpretative part of the show:

If you find yourself among a group of excited corgi owners, it's handy to be able to translate what the hell they are saying. So here's Finnegan's short list of some common terms used in Corgi-Speak.

Corgum: A pack of corgis. If you find yourself amid a corgum, be certain you do not have a peanut butter cookie anywhere upon your person. They will take you down and lick you. At which point you will require a rain poncho.

Corgi-Nation: A wild, wonderful pack of corgi owners devoted to all aspects of this breed.

Derp: The Derp is the googly facial expression corgis get when they are completely relaxed and happy. It includes the sideways lolling tongue, shiny, crazy, I-don't need-caffeine googly eyes, and a wide smile. It has been spotted on an upside down corgi from time to time. Snap a photo. This is also referred to as "derping" and "derpy".

Drummies: From the side, a corgi's hind legs resemble turkey drumsticks, hence "Drummies". (Because corgi owners must amuse-ify a word before they will commit it to corgi-speak.)

Fluffy: This is one hirsute corgi. A corgi so fluffy that an entire fall lineup of sweaters could be knitted from a single shedding. Plus, it's very pretty. Corgi owners love to see a stumpy fluffy sashaying down the avenue like she owns it.

Floofeh Pants: A corgi with an especially fluffy butt. The rest of him may not qualify as "Fluffy" so his cute butt gets its own designation. Also referred to as "Fluffeh", because it's just more fun to say it this way.

Frap: Frequent Random Acts of Play. When used as a verb one says "Finnegan is frapping in circles around the kitchen." If your corgi is frapping, you must either join in regardless of the stares of concerned citizens, or you must run for the hills. There are no other options.

Mind-Meld: The corgi mind-meld is a stare so persistent, so insistent, so laser-beam focused that it puts german shepherds to shame. Really. You will do what the corgi wants. No questions asked. (There is some wild speculation that George Lucas might have used the corgi mind-meld as the inspiration for the Jedi Mind Trick. But we haven't been able to confirm this. It would be cool, though.)

Momo: Corgi owners in Japan have been heard referring to their corgi's plump little bottoms as "momo" because of their resemblance to peaches. Finnegan gives great momo. See photo below.

Nubbin: The widget of a tail on many corgis. See photo above. One difference between a Cardigan corgi and a Pembroke corgi is that Cardigans have a tail and Pembrokes often do not because it was docked or they were born without one. More corgi owners are now opting to leave the tails intact, which we think is a wonderful idea. Confused? Think of it in clothing terms: a Cardigan has a sleeve (tail) and a Pembroke is sleeveless (nubbin tail).

Upright: A human. Corgis keep uprights as pets. Uprights are taught useful tricks such as giving the corgi treats, chesties (chest scratches to make their hind leg thump super fast), and belly rubs. Uprights are responsible for making certain that corgis get the choicest spot on the bed and that they are tucked in each night. Uprights are required to engage in random games of Monster, where they must chase the corgi throughout their home for no apparent reason. Corgis also like to practice their mad herding skills upon their Uprights. Nothing is more fun than pushing an Upright into a wall when she is carrying a hot cup of coffee. Uprights are required to drive the corgi places so he can get his window sniffs. They must walk the corgi in beautiful meadows so he can hunt for organic snacks like kitty poo and allow him to roll in dead, smelly things. And Uprights are under strict orders to never, ever allow the vet to use a thermometer.

Finnegan and his Upright hope you have enjoyed this brief lesson in Corgi-Speak. Go forth and frap freely! And someone call George Lucas and ask him about that whole Jedi Mind Trick thingy, would ya? Finnegan thinks it would up his cool quotient. Well, he also has a thing for Wookies, but we won't get into that here.

Time and The Chew Bone

For three days running she watched Finnegan covet a new chew bone. Trotting around behind her, carrying it everywhere she went, he dropped it each time she sat down and snatched it back up each time she stood. She was always off to fetch another file folder or pad of paper or pen or her mind.
"Why don't you just gnaw at it?" she finally asked.
"I'm waiting."
"Waiting?"
"For you."
She hunkered down in front of him.
"Sorry kiddo, I'm not following you. What do I have to do with you chewing a bone?"
"I like to wait until you settle in with a good book. Then I know you aren't going anywhere for awhile. So I can dig in and just hang out with you. You've got your book, I've got my bone, and we're just living in the moment."
"You wait days for me to be able to stop and pick up a book so that you can enjoy your treat?"
"I can wait. We corgis are always patient when it comes to getting what we want."
She leaned over and gave the side of his face a soft caress. Time, it would seem, had an entirely different meaning for him than it did for her. Finnegan's clock was expansive; he had room to breathe and ponder, to sit within the tick-tock, tick-tock of the moment, knowing that his patience would bring him something meaningful.
She pondered time as a physical entity clothed in moving air, sunrise to sunset, past-present-future, tick-tock! And there it was, the realization that the seconds filling up her life shouldn't be overlooked as if they were only important in terms of minutes or hours. No. Each second was a breath, a blink, a smile. Each second actually comprised whole parts of her being, as it did his.
Patience had never failed to bring great gifts into her life before, so why had she forgotten that of late? The big brown eyes were pinned to her, expectant, shining, happy. And patient, always patient. He looked at her like she was his biggest gift. And then she understood. She was.
"My little Buddha Boy." She whispered.
"Oh! Siddhartha loved corgis! Did I ever tell you about the time...hey, hey where are you going?"
"To get a book."

In Which We Celebrate National Dog Day (sort of).

"It's National Dog Day, Finnegan."
"It should be National Corgi Day."
"Not much for diversity, are you?"
"Other dogs are ok. But we're special. Corgis are descended from wolves!"
"Um. I think all dogs are descendants of wolves."
He gave her The Look of Offense and retreated to the far side of the room where he curled up on his special blanket.
"Mean human. Penelope knows we're special. Ask her!" he grumbled.
She grinned. Oh, the ego of the corgi. She chuckled and let him sulk, knowing that the very second she rustled the bag of peanut butter cookies all would be forgiven. In the meantime, a poem:

General wolf rules for life by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D. from "Women Who Run With the Wolves".

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Which Finnegan Begins Dating

Finnegan met an older woman. A blonde with a cute wiggle and a fluffy butt. Penelope, the fairest corgi of them all. Oh dear. Young corgi love. There was a great deal of mutual waggling and sniffing and play bows and then the embarrassing moment when his human had to pull him off the little darling.
"You mustn't do that. You just met!"
"We're dogs. Courtship takes three minutes. After that we're pretty comfortable."
"Well, I'm not!"
"Aw, come on. Look at her! She's adorable!"
"Yes. Adorable. But you need to treat her like a lady."
"Dogs are different, just so you understand."
"I do understand. But is it too much to ask that you display some manners? I'd like to remain on speaking terms with her human. Being polite is important."
He cocked his head and regarded her with serious eyes. Her request wasn't outrageous. Silly, yes, but not outrageous. These human creatures had some odd rules, dancing anxiously around topics that corgis just simply met head on. Interesting.
"Ok. I shall treat the fair Penelope as my muse. Hey, do we have any volumes of Shakespeare lying around? He was a kid with a flair for pretty words. I could use some good quotes."
She blinked. And then she held her breath. How the heck did he know about Shakespeare?
"You don't want to know," he laughingly woofed over his shoulder, reading her mind again. "You don't want to know!"
Finnegan loped away from her, back to where Penelope was sniffing rabbit droppings among a patch of wild yellow daisies. Clearly, Shakespeare was another topic for another day. She went back and sat down at the picnic table. She made friendly conversation with Penelope's father while observing her boy romping about in the sun with his new girlfriend. And in that moment she had an inkling of how every mom feels the moment her son experiences that first serious crush. Oh. My. God. It was going to be a long summer.

Own Your Joy.

Molly left on a Tuesday morning, sitting on the front seat of a big yellow Ryder moving van. It felt as if the sunshine was momentarily sucked out of the day. Finnegan noticed the dejected tilt of his human's head. Trotting over he pushed his muzzle between her shins, pressing hard against her with his shoulders.
"Human Woman," he whispered. "Tell me what you learned."
"Oh, Finnie," she sighed, reaching an index finger down to his right ear, curling it around the velvety edge the way he liked. "So very much. She wasn't even my dog! But she charged into my heart and knocked me over with her joy."
"And?" He pushed a little harder, wanting her to speak the lesson out loud.
"She taught me to own my joy."
"Yes? Do you get it now?"
He backed up, giving her his full attention. He knew her love for Molly, the little gold and white corgi she had been walking for a friend, had never detracted from her love for him. Molly simply arrived to hammer home the lesson he had been trying to teach his human all year long. Her hands shook as she petted him. Her eyes filled with the shine of tears but something more, the shine of certainty. She nodded and scritched at his white ruff. He wiggled into her fingers, loving the feel of it. They both chuckled. Then she told him what he wanted to hear.
"Molly showed me her best. Every. Single. Second. She lived her joy because she owned it. When I was with her, it was the most incredible, kinetic energy between us. She truly lived in the moment. And being in the moment with Molly felt like sunshine. It dawned on me that I had that same sunshine in me. But I cover it up. To protect it from unhappy people in my life. And that was my 'Get'. The moment I understood it's time to own my joy out loud. Time to start walking away from snipers, the way Molly turns her back on unfriendly dogs and just keeps going. So each day I ask myself, 'What would Molly do?' and I know the answer at once!"
"Own your joy!" Finnegan woofed.
She nodded and her smile lit up his world. "Exactly. Be a Molly. Fluff your tail."
"Well...um," he glanced over his shoulder at his nub. "If you have one."
"Each of us has a tail, Finnie, it just takes some of us a little longer to wag it."
He sat and smiled up at her. Finally, she understood what corgis already know. You are you. Get out there and get going. Walk forward. Hold your head up and fluff your tail or your nub or your ass. If someone takes a swipe at you, just keep walking. Because there's a Molly right around the next corner, wanting to meet you, greet you, play with you, and share your sunshine.