Morning magic: head for preprogrammed first-cup-o-coffee and start writing. By 7:10am, when everyone else begins to stir, I already have a sense of accomplishment for the day.
Things are about to change.
We live in a bungalow sized home and a rescue puppy is moving in.
I channel my inner-spirit: John Grogan, “A dog doesn’t care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his.”1
Marley and Me, John Grogan1
I just hope my heart is strong enough for this (much anticipated albeit anxiety ridden) change.
Anxiety = when we care about something and hold some ounce(s) of fear.
Tessa the Pup, the origins of her name—to gather—suits her well. She moved in two doors down, two weeks ago. Her foster mom alerted the neighbor in between us. That neighbor knew we were looking for a fourth member for our family. And after getting my daughter on the bus on her first day of school, I made my introductions. This neighbor has lived there for six years. I thought it had been less than three years. I blame the Covid time warp. I know her name. We wave. But it took a dog like Tessa to know one another.
I said, “I heard you’re fostering…”
“For sure. This is Tessa. She was on the euthanasia list, found wandering as a baby in West Virginia,” they reply.
Tessa immediately came to me. Gentle, curious. A few licks. Mutual sniffs. Ear rubs.
Then, you can imagine what happened next: eye contact.
Attachment. Boom.
“It was love,” as the amazing pig parents Steve and Derek said in unison.2
That evening, I pitched my vision to my spouse: “This is a sign,” I explained. “Tessa came to us. She chose us!” I have an endless supply of altruism hubris. Besides, our daughter had placed a red X on our family calendar, after four years of begging and four months patiently waiting since our preparatory fence went in. It was time. It. Was. Time! And my heart was sold. She was our girl…
“I dunno,” my spouse’s favorite answer to my effusive pitches.
I’d heard these dunnos all before: when to get married, try for a kid, choose the right house, and…raise a pup. Every other time, he would later thank me, “You always know when to lead us into our next great stage.” Which is hilarious, because…it’s still usually on his timeline, considering most of the aforementioned endeavors require at least two people. And, while he says I choose the timing, I usually beg like my daughter for several days or months or years before he considers. What does consideration look like? Arms crossed and the repetition of the words, “I dunno,” and he concludes, “I just need some time to think about this.”
Tessa is part beagle and part something else. It’s the something else, as far as size for our small home that my spouse was concerned about, and he was wisely considering. I married into the biggest PAUSE challenge of my life, a deeply and slowly contemplative partner. I did this. I chose this. Grrrr. We do, usually, know what we need more of beneath our conscious automatic patterns.
Grrrr. We do, usually, know what we need more of beneath our conscious automatic patterns.
Tues, Weds, Thurs…still thinking about the dog’s potential adult size – Michael referenced Steve and Derek’s ESTHER THE PIG dilemmas.2 “What if she outgrows this house? Then what?”
I called, “Unfair.”
Regardless, by the Friday of the week when I Monday pitched, I continued penetration into the psyche of my copilot. I scheduled a playdate for my spouse and child to meet Tessa.
Without hesitation, Tessa ran to my spouse for licks and belly rubs. When Tessa kissed my daughter’s ear, before leaping for her ponytail – the deal was sealed. And now we’re bonding with incremental visits to our home. She moves in this weekend.
I learned at a conference with the Cambridge Health Alliance that dog brains have marked similarities to human brains.3 They have anxiety centers held in their own limbic system akin to what I study and treat in my clients (and these similarities to humans are greater than a cat to human comparison).3
Tessa had a traumatic start to the world and I am humbly hoping a trauma specializing therapist for humans will make a safe enough home for an early life, traumatized pup. After all – aren’t we all a little bit of wild pup – looking for safe shelter and love?
And if Tessa’s “something else” finds her growing into something bigger than our loveseat, we will – as my spouse and I have done for decades now – adapt with grace.
In the next couple of articles, inspired by Tessa’s arrival – I’ll be zooming in on the anxiety of change. This specific form of anxiety, manifesting in personal thoughts and feelings and sensations unique to one’s wiring, happens because the brain craves the familiar before the healthy or progress, even. Why is that? Part superhighway rush of doing the ritualized routines. Doesn’t it feel good to wear that favorite pair of jeans? And how about that bun hairstyle that I have promised my spouse I’d change six years ago, but alas…no one’s holding their breath. People, I cannot think with a heavy mop all over my neck. Some things are worth changing your life for and some are not.
You decide: dog versus hairstyles?
The D.O.G. days of changed are being discussed at my Instagram platform @Jesshonig and will be further explored in forthcoming articles. D stands for deliberate, O for ongoing, and the G is for gradual. If you reflect back on how I faced and broke through my spouse’s anxiety regarding Tessa, well – you have a classic example of my D.O.G.’on good skills will be all about. Check back for details…in camaraderie, Jess (and Tess)
1 Grogran, J. Marley and Me. William Morrow. 2005.
2 Jenkins, S & Walter D & Crane C. Esther the Wonder Pig. Little Brown Books for Young Readers. 2018
3 Cambridge Health Alliance Continuing Ed. Live Conference, Approximately 2009.
ANXIETY ANSWERS 