Stars

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars."
-Charles Beard

Gavin and I started our Friday heaving, darting and stopping our way to Eugene Field Park. It was my ritual morning stroll with Finn; he never slacked on his daily mission to plunge his nose into the ground until he tracked down his favorite digging spot. He would doggedly rake his paws into the hole, gorge himself on a mouthful of dirt and worms; which inevitably clung to his floppy lips and pearly white teeth then valiantly skip to me. Fourteen years flew by so fast, it is hard to recall how I ended up being the big cheese; even when bunnies, pigeons and screaming children zoomed past us.

Standing there with Gavin that day, who was ricocheting off the pavement into the sharp, dreery air as he squirmed to say hello to the other hooded, hunched-over people who, like me, were standing there solemnly thinking of our neighbors' homes that may never be the same. Heaviness clutched my soul in a place I usually treasure so much peace and light. What a dark week last week was for flood victims and so many others who suffered horrific tragedies in Boston and West, Texas. I found it so difficult to think about much more than their sadness and loss. The gray, damp skies made everything I looked at seem desolate, yet somehow my day would go on like normal and that too made me very somber. As I was standing there, Gavin bunny- hopped towards a woman, jiggling and shimmying, in hopes she might want to clown around with him. Her eyes softened a bit as she leaned down to stroke his chest and her face became so humble and tender.

I was planning a small get together at my house that evening and in between stirring sauces; melting chocolate; and lurking around the corner at Little Big Head, who has discovered how much fun it is to chew and dig my sisal rug, despite his antlers, tracheas, bullies and Kongs there for his chewing pleasure, I was glued to the news. I was really struggling to find my celebratory spirit; but reasoned that being with people who dazzle, shine and make me laugh was likely the best way for me to remember how beautiful the world can be.

Finn used to LOVE it when I had shin digs. While I prepared, Finn was glued to my leg in the kitchen, longingly gazing into the meat-drenched air and snorting at the sweet smell. I always tried to make a non-vegetarian dish for my guests and Finn relished in the rare occasion he was privy to the aroma. And, every time the doorbell sounded it's obnoxious DING DONG; he marched over to the couch, hoisted himself up with his front two paws and retrieved one of my corded yellow couch cushions. Without fail, when the door opened; Finn would be standing so proudly, goofy grin across his face and tail swinging to and fro with a  pillow dangling from his mouth for his admirers. His performance always grew more enthusiastic when a friend squealed, "Hi Finn, you wild man!". He never chewed a pillow during his one dog act, so I was fine with dried slobber as an accent on my cushions.

This weekend was Gavin's coming out party and boy, did he show off his charming lil' personality. Every time the door opened, he lowered his head as he wriggled towards them. Gavin looked like a tadpole scurrying through the water, his tailing whipping back and forth to pronounce his merriment as his bounded into one of my favorite people's legs for petting and kisses. Many of which came bearing gifts for him which he happily chased, squeaked and destroyed; the entire time showcasing how amazing his spirit is as we discussed the possibilities of his past and marveled at him bouncing from one person to the next.  

When I woke him up on Saturday morning, he hummed and honked in protest as he stretched and begged me with his eyes to let him stay in bed.  We watch Kate's dog on Saturdays so we had to get going and once he figured out he really had to get up, he wobbled to door, beaming. My dear friend Jenny already sent me an email to tell me she can't get Gavin out of her mind, my adorable ham.