Dog Days of Summer

Happy July, my gangsters of philia (defined as a deep, affectionate friendship characterized by trust and loyalty) I have not been active in these parts as I have been on hiatus from screens for the most part. I now have to limit my Stack time as it is mostly current events-related outrage, which is totally understandable and supported. But it’s not my happy place to escape into stories anymore. I’m having enough trouble fitting into a world where Taco Bell salsa has “main character energy,” let alone the other daily atrocities too horrific to mention.

In a related topic, I’ve been grappling with a prolonged bout of depression. I try to speak candidly about it as it’s still considered by many to be a moral failure and/or a sign of weakness. HOT CUP OF NOPE. I’ve morally failed at other things but this ain’t one of them. I proudly announced to my nurse practitioner about two years into my Parkinson’s diagnosis that I managed anxiety and depression with diet and exercise, thank you very much. Drugs were for other people. She replied, “You can eat all the quinoa and do all the yoga you like, but this depression is biochemical and a symptom of PD, so drugs are going to be your quickest and most effective option.” Um, ok. She was correct, I felt better on Lexapro almost immediately.

Six years later I’ve dabbled in the short list of the SSRI greatest hits and it appears I’ve come to the end of the road with Effexor. Still waiting to see a medication management specialist that deals specifically with neurological disorders. I AM A VERY SPECIAL HAPPY-DRUG PRINCESS, please curtsy.

Anxiety has taken a front seat in the Stressy Depressy mobile for a change; usually I stick with being straight up bummed out. I have been obsessing about the worst possible outcome quite a bit. I showed up with THE SKY IS FALLING mentality on a recent trip to Seattle to dogsit for a friend’s mom.

I have not owned a pet in decades, mostly due to the fact that I travel for a living and that’s not an optimal situation for the animal. I do catsit for our neighbors’ cat Mackensie on occasion. She is 17 and living her best life.

But being responsible for Stella (pooch) for several weeks sent my anxiety into full tilt. Where was the nearest animal hospital? What if she pulled me faster than I could walk with her leash? What if she zipped out the open door into traffic? What if she ate something poisonous? WHAT IF SHE WAS ABDUCTED BY ALIENS?

Between that and record heat with no a/c (only fans, but not the sexy kind) I was pretty frazzled from the jump.

This was the micro-version of the usual chatter my head produces non-stop…ie what if my brain stops working when I am on public trans, what if my legs stop working and I fall down the escalator, what if my brain shits the bed before my body or vice versa, how soon until they put me in a home, should I identify as a really together disabled person or a significantly tarnished regular person…

After all that mental spinout, possible alien abduction really didn’t sound all that bad.

Stella and I began to build a little routine. Get up super early, not difficult as Stella would put her face up to mine on the side of the bed around 5:45 am. She was patient with me, jumping in bed for lots of cuddles before breakfast. We would hit the streets before it was hot, doing deep sniffs for squirrels and bunnies. Stella is half poodle, half golden retriever, with a smidge of border collie for good measure. She’s 3 and full of doodle spark.

We would return home after much sniffing and pooping (Stella, not me) and begin our day. Hot days required a lot of fan management and I was nervous about leaving her in the house unattended for any length of time. We did cool off with the hose quite a bit.

The afternoons were for socializing, but I looked forward to dinner with Stella and a nightly walk and more fun and games with water sports. After I would enjoy a glass of wine while watching my stories (full disclosure: Below Deck Sailing Yacht, I ❤️ trash) and go to bed early. It was as close to a conservative dad schedule as I’d had in quite awhile.

After a week or so, we developed a rhythm. We would often take an afternoon nap together.

The first week I worried quite a bit, second guessing myself at every turn. Did I feed her too late or too early? Did we walk long enough? Did I lock the back door? YES YES YES…geez. Enough already.

Week two it was much cooler, so we slept a bit later. I didn’t question my abilities so much. On our morning walks when Stella would pick up her pace, I would often jog to keep up. I haven’t been able to walk at a quick pace, let alone JOG, in years. It was a big confidence builder.

During that second week when Stella and I would cuddle on the bed in the afternoon, she would put her mouth around my arm. Not to bite me, but simply to tell me we were good, that we could trust each other. She rolled over to present her tummy to be rubbed many times a day and I happily obliged. I took in the notion that she made herself vulnerable all the time and expected to be rewarded with rubs and I provided them.

It was a mutually rewarding unconditional love arrangement.

When my departure date came around, Stella sensed it. She listened to an hour of an audiobook with me the night before and she gave me extra credit snuggles that morning. The last walk we did was in a densely wooded park with so many squirrely/ bunny smells that she went wild. I found myself on the verge of gleefully running to keep up with her until I thought I probably should slow down as I might trip.

That was a perfectly reasonable worry. I realized that I hadn’t engaged in catastrophic thinking in days, I just dealt with stuff as it happened. It felt like a mental vacation.

Although I was happy to sleep in my own bed, I found that I missed Stella when I got home. I had grown attached to hearing the jingling of her collar, to saying “WHERE’S MY STELLY BELLY?” and having her come running to me, flipping on her back for belly rubs. Come to find out unconditional animal adoration can ease a worried mind better than Lorazepam.

Things that currently bring joy besides dog love:

• Kim Thayil’s A Screaming Life: Into the Superunknown with Soundgarden and Beyond. Written by Soundgarden’s lead guitarist, a thoughtful and well written account of the 90’s grunge scene in Seattle. I found it interesting because it brought back good memories of my misspent youth back when the members of Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Mudhoney, etc were just dudes you could see on any given day skateboarding or hanging out at Vogue. Good times.

• Cocofloss: do you always feel like you have stuff in your teeth? The older I get, the more it bugs me. I can no longer use regular dumb dental floss anymore, Cocofloss is the bomb. (yes, I am Excited Over Dental Floss years old)

• Vitamin C serum from Trader Joe’s: I use this during the day and TJ Marula oil at night. I think I’ve saved approximately one million dollars with this cheap skincare plan. I don’t believe in fancy bitch emollients. I’m also semi-convinced that castor oil is bringing my eyebrows back. Never give up on the dream.

• Jonathan Edward Dunham’s Substack: I can count on several laughs a day here. Much appreciated.

  

• No Country For Old Women podcast: Hosted by Jennifer Romolini and Kimberly Harrington (both available here at Substack), this pod is billed as A PODCAST FOR WOMEN JUST TRYING TO LIVE IN THIS WORLD. It feels like crashing a fun conversation with smart and sassy women who are also sick to death of everyone’s bullshit. Patreon members are privy to group writing hours, so you can be productive while you’re being amused. I look forward to Wednesdays to get a dose of much needed snark and to feel less alone in my OMG WHY I AM LIKE THIS? life.

I have not and will not catch World Cup fever but I’m glad it’s uniting fans and drinking Boston out of beer. If you believe it, you can achieve it! I’m counting down to the return of Ted Lasso instead. TTFN, happy summer.

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