New Year, Old Book

I wrote this post on the 2nd but couldn't decide whether or not to publish it because it felt too personal but as my thoughts are with Nan today I thought it apropos.

I began the new year with an old book. Heading out with the fam to celebrate the incoming year at my sister's, I passed up all the never-been-read books on my shelves and pulled out James Herriot's Dog Stories for a reread. Feeling the need for a comfort read, indeed. I am always a little sad after Christmas passes. It is my favorite time of year and knowing that it won't be around for 11 more months provokes a small case of melancholy. I still have the decorations up and turn on the lights as dusk ushers in the night and play the occasional Christmas cd if I can get away with it but, on New's Year eve morning, my husband took down the outside Christmas lights and I knew it was the beginning of the end. Bah! On Monday morning, my husband and eldest will return to work and school, respectively, after their holiday breaks, and the youngest and I will round up and put away the Christmas decorations. Bah again!

God, I love these stories! In Herriot's introduction, he writes about his own dogs saying "I often think of them all, of their different characters and the happiness I had with them." This is something I do as well and wonder if other dog lovers do the same. Each and every one had their own character and this amazes me still. I always run through them chronologically, in the order they came into my life, my timeline of dogs.

The first was a shephard-collie mix named Crystal. Although she later came to live with my grandparents, I still considered her mine. She was beautiful but she was a rascal which made all of us love her more. As kids we rode our Big Wheel up and down the long driveway of our grandparents' home and if you had the misfortune of Crystal standing guard over the roadway, she would run up to the Big Wheel and begin biting the huge front wheel. No matter how much you begged her to stop, she would not let go and we would abandon the toy in despair either to find another or plead with an adult to put Crystal in the backyard. She also loved to smile by bearing her front teeth while simultaneously wagging her hind end furiously. She mostly did this when she was in trouble...like the time she ripped my grandmother's clean sheets off the clothesline and dragged them through the dirt. You could try disciplining a dog while they smile up at you but it is impossible.

But the one thing I had a difficult time forgiving her for was nipping at my heels. She was so unpredictable at this pastime of hers that one never knew when to expect it. Sometimes she let you walk by without harassment and the next time she would stealthily creep up behind you and nibble your Achilles which resulted in my jumping in the air and attempting to run back inside. Only this attempt at self-preservation seemed to instigate her bad behavior further and she would keep nipping as my running turned into shuffling in an attempt to avoid kicking her. It took a while to shuffle to safety but once I had the door in between the two of us I would try to tell her how naughty she was but on came the pearly whites and all was once again forgiven.

The day Crystal passed away, my mom picked me up from my part-time job after school. I felt so grown up earning my own money and working in an office among adults but I was reduced to a little girl again as I wept openly and my mother's arms around me were as comforting as Crystal's presence always proved to be.