Great Expectations

Compared to my hometown of Columbus, Ohio, Chicago is ridiculously dog-friendly; which was a huge deciding factor for me when I made the move. As a new dog parent, I was absolutely dying to meet people who's life had been lit up by their dog as much as Finn had already seemed to do for mine. If we were not racing to Wiggly Field for him to charge so fast after slimy tennis balls that his four legs scrambled before he was able to take off; I was studying the book Doggone Chicago and printing out Mapquest directions so we could explore a new neighborhood together.

I was completely fascinated by the fact that some stores even allowed dogs to accompany their humans while shopping. Back then, my obedience school dropout and I would have maxed out all of my credit cards just walking into a dog-friendly boutique. Finn would have certainly chose to retrieve the most expensive item at the top of any rack; surely causing intricate jewelry displays to go crashing to the floor; his tail thumping, paws tapping and him smiling up at me, with an exaggerated "ISN'T THIS FUN?" look on his face. I always wondered who those dogs were that chewed up socks. My lug ate a hole in my mattress and my roommate's glasses within a week of our arrival to the Windy City; he never fancied anything cheap and easy to replace. I remember once thinking that raising a puppy would look like one of those dog food commercials; butterball Finn frolicking by my side, gently nuzzling me as we rolled and laughed in the emerald green grass together. I am so glad it was not what I expected it to be, it would have been a lot less fun.

The memories of Finn sprinting on leash, with nothing on his mind other than getting where he wanted to go as fast as possible or actually getting a squirrel who was running up the tree and looking at me dumbfounded that he caught the little furry creature, seem so far away to me. He was so shocked there was a squirrel in his mouth that he immediately dropped it and looked at me like "what the heck just happened?" I felt so bad watching the poor thing limp away that I found a squirrel rescue to nurse it back to health. When I close my eyes, the Finn that I see is running along the side of the Smoky Mountains and turning back to see where I am or looking up at me with his twinkly eyes as we savor the simple joy of walking together. If he had not had so many bad experiences with other dogs; I might have never worked so hard to find the amazing, remote places we shared so many good times together. That change for me, years ago, was not easy to make. I loved being at the parks with other dog lovers, but am so grateful that I was able to understand who he was and revel in the beauty and quiet of trails, trees and real grass.

Saturday night, flashes of light crackled and zapped through the dark sky and the instant I heard the crashes, my heart started beating faster and without even realizing it, I jumped up to start preparing Finn's man cave.  Poor little Gavin rose his sleepy head that was previously resting on my leg, wondering what all the fuss was about through his squinty eyes. He yawned and squeaked as he stretched and went back to sleep. I shook my head, still a little rattled. My life has been shaped by my experiences and so many of those memories include or were inspired by Finn. What I am starting to realize is Gavin lives with a person who is going to instinctively do things that I used to do with Finn, but that's not so bad. And it does not mean I expect him to behave or respond to me the way Finn would have.

Gavin's first walk in my neighborhood was a dream, he looked up at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. He was on medication. And while I was looking forward to long walks again; training Gavin to not whip his tail like a maniac while pouncing on the neighborhood children or cannonball himself four-feet into the air, squealing and gripping trees while intently staring at the squirrels SO. FAR. AWAY has been a lot of work. And, it is not fun for him. He would much rather play with a dog or chase a squeaky ball. I have seriously considered purchasing a squirrel costume to keep his attention on walks and because I think it would be hilarious to see peoples' reaction to a giant squirrel walking a dog.

My friend Sheila recently sent me pictures from my birthday hike with Finn. There were so many candid photos where I was talking to her with an expression on my face that looked like I just taken a bite from a lemon. In front of me was Finn, standing there and gazing up so adoringly. That moment and so many more in recent years, I was the only thing in the world that mattered to that dog. There were other people, dogs, deer and he still chose me. A bond that strong is not instant, and as Gavin shows his puppy ways more and more everyday; it brings back memories with Finn when I chuckled, shook my head and wondered if we would ever understand each other.

When I began searching for a dog to share my home; I thought I wanted a buddy who would go on long walks with me. I had grown so comfortable with a big lug who no longer had any desire to say hi to random dogs on the street or race through parks, inviting all the pups to chase him. Perhaps the lesson I need right now is to learn how to get out and play more; Gavin is the just the dog for the job. In the past couple of weeks, seeing Gavin glittery eyed, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he and Grace run in circles around Kate's house; smiling as he pounces onto the ground, attempting to invite the new pup at the park to play or; belly-up, snoring after a long day at camp, his playfulness is helping me come back to life. And, Gavin is way more interested in learning what I would like for him to learn when he gets the wiggles out of his system. Now that I have discovered an abandoned tennis court for him to enjoy an intense game of fetch after a walk, we are understanding each other in a much more meaningful way.

It has been exactly three months today since I last kissed Finn on his forehead but it seems like I stroked his fur only yesterday. The pieces of my heart that I lost every month I saw the glimmer dim in Finn's eyes and his face and body grow more frail, though he still wore an ear-to-ear smile and showed the world he was a trooper with his never-ending tail wag; are somehow coming back to me when I see Gavin pause, then hop into the air like a rabbit to catch his bone, ball or a recent discovery, my shoe. He has to do some serious sleuthing to find my shoes so I wonder if Finn is whispering in his ear; because nabbing shoes was a game he would like to believe he invented. Like young Finn, Gavin wants and needs to get out and be with dogs and a lot of people. Perhaps I do too. What I thought I needed was nothing more than a silly expectation and maybe I have so much more to learn and experience if I pounced and played more often.