I’ll lick you till you’re not upset anymore.

It’s been a long day. I’m tired. The sofa is inviting. I decide to catch a few winks. The puppy is nearby on the carpet. Her furry little self blends into the carpet. She chews her toy. I lay on the sofa. It is a peaceful moment.

I hear her gnawing on the toy, or so I think. The sounds gets rhythmic and she seems hard at work. I glance in her direction and bolt upright for it’s the carpet she’s been working on! The stinker has been pulling threads off of the carpet. I am next to her in a leap, and stare in horror, at a small bald area with no carpet hairs.

“No!” I shout and push her away. “You don’t do that” . “No,” I say loudly, pointing at her work area.  “Look at me,” I order. “You don’t do that”. All English. Funny how I never admonish her in Marathi. But I digress.

Suddenly, in that moment I am exhausted. I want to throw in the towel. I’m too tired to chase a puppy around the house. “Why is there a puppy in this house? Why in the world, did I give in to the puppy request?” I ask myself (everyday).

I sit on the floor with my head in my hands. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t possibly watch over her all the time. I can barely manage the things I need to do.”  

I am tired. I don’t want to anticipate her next move and chew. My body needs a nap on the comfy sofa to get through the rest of the day.

The puppy jumps on me and starts licking my ear. She can’t bear the fact that I am upset and wants to cheer me up. I push her away.  

“Go away. You’re the reason I’m upset,” I tell her.

She doesn’t care. She continues to jump on me and lick my ear. Did I mention, licking the ear (and sometimes face) is her way of saying ‘I love you’.

I turn away from her. I don’t want to look at her. She doesn’t care. She jumps on me and licks my ear some more. And with such fervor, I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

I doubt she sees any connection between her actions and my being upset. She is not apologizing. She is not trying to win me over. It’s not about her. It’s about me. She does not want me to be upset. Period. And she is determined to lick me and especially my ear till I’m not.

Yes. As she licks me, it sinks in some more -- it’s not about her. It’s about me.

I put her in the wood floor penned area. I am on the carpet side.

“Bad puppy,” I tell her. She doesn’t care. She runs around the kitchen and dining area, so she can see me. She knows I’m still mad. She whines and makes her strange Chewbacca talking sounds. She does her funny thing with the paw trying to call me. I give up. It’s pointless. It’s also simple.

It’s very simple in her world. If you’re upset. You need love. She is here to give me love. She is trying to tell me there is really no point in being upset. She is telling me to not hurt myself with the upset.

I suppose she’s right. Maybe this puppy is trying to convince me that it’s pointless to be mad at someone, about something, something outside me, something outside of my control, or maybe even to take the weight of her actions on my shoulders.

What matters is that I remove the upset from inside me. That is the only thing of any real concern to this puppy. To not be upset.

The puppy world must be a wondrous place to inhabit. For anger, irritation, pressures, frustration, are all pointless to this puppy. And the only sensible thing to do is to release it and replace it with love. One ear-lick at a time. 

Mornings

I wake up in morning and I sigh inwardly. I sigh that big giant sigh, and bury myself back in the sheets. I want to stay in, hidden from the world. I don’t feel strong enough to take on the world.

I dislike this. Immensely. I think of the times when I awoke refreshed and ready for the day. Ah, the many things we fail to even notice. The many things we miss only when they are gone.

Morning melancholy aside. As mentioned, I dislike this. So I do what any determined person does. Not with any particular discipline, but I try several different things to perk up the mornings. I do breath work before getting up, I try to hypnotize myself while brushing my teeth to be more awake (oh well, I mostly stare at myself in the mirror and urge a more energetic person to stare back. Ahem…).

I have a boom box next to my bed. When I awake in the middle of the night or early morning, my body taut or in some kind of pain, I turn on meditation CDs. Sometimes they help me breathe better, lull me back to sleep or else help me solve all the world problems. Yes. Every. Single. Problem.

Most times, I just give up and drag myself through the morning like a zombie. But remember? I dislike it. So, over and over, like a demented raccoon, (yes, apparently, I know the habits of demented raccoons), I keep trying.

Some days I do a little yoga. This morning I try a few sun salutations. The puppy climbs on my back. She thinks I am upset and starts licking my ear. She licks ears to cheer you up. I fell on the floor some time back and that was her way to make me all better.

“I’m okay,” I try to tell her. But she continues as I go into downward dog. Who came up with the name for this pose? I’m calling it ear-licking dog.   

At times I think of my mom’s strategy. When she wakes up too early, she hops out of bed and finishes cooking for the day. Yes. My mom often has her days meals ready at 5 a.m. Brilliant, you say? Sure. Unless you are sleeping peacefully in her house and awaken rudely to the shrill whistle of the pressure cooker at 6 a.m. “Why?” I ask her, bleary-eyed, “Would you be pressure cooking at 6 a.m.?”

“I waited two whole hours, before starting the pressure cooker,” she informs me brightly. My mom is a terrific cook and I resign in the knowledge that that meal will be delicious, even if it involves pressure cooker whistles at 6 a.m.  

Of late, the movie, “50 first dates” pops in my mind regularly. I probably saw it over a decade ago and I remember very little of it. Nor does this rom-com fall in any particular favorite movie category, but the end keeps coming back to my mind.  

Very briefly, here’s the premise of the movie. Boy meets girl. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Girl forgets boy (and most of her life). Everyday. She has short-term memory loss. Boy really loves girl. Boy figures out a way for them to have a life together.

Jumping to the end of the movie. Spoiler alert. (Sorry. No one will believe I did movie reviews as part of my newspaper job for Arts and Culture).      

Long story short, she wakes up every morning and watches a short movie of her life. All the happy parts. The smiling clips. Everyone and everything she has in her life, to be grateful for, are in the film.

Yes. She starts her day completely confused and disoriented, but then sees all the good bits in her life. What a gift. What a beautiful way to start the day. She is not thinking of aches or pains, or lunches, or if the puppy has chewed the rug, or the general overwhelm of the day and the lack of physical strength to deal with it.

No. She starts her day with the things that are the most important and that are going well for her. Focusing on the joys, rather than the responsibilities.

Agreed this is Hollywood and the reality after the joy is not quite depicted. For example, does she know that her kid is allergic to the peanut butter sandwich she packed for his lunch or that her daughter has soccer practice that afternoon… or a myriad other complications…

For even if there are a zillion other complications, she has still started her day with a smile and joy and gratitude for the things that are going well in her life and therein lies her strength, her perspective of her world. I can’t help imagine there must be much power and hope in starting a day such. Even the worst day. That would be a perspective worth putting into place. Demented raccoon, or otherwise.