love – Story Time With Heather Pasley

I once knew a Mum in Australia who threatened her children constantly with NOT getting a dog.

The Heart Gallery–Paint Your Pet Night Backstory

Bella, if you run up ahead of me…NO DOG!!

Hamish, if you hit your brother, NO DOG!!!

I don’t even know if a dog was ever on the table. It didn’t matter. The very idea that a K-9 may one day enter their lives was enough to keep the kids in-line. I used the same threat as a joke for years. It didn’t have the same impact since I was referencing an imaginary dog that we ABSOLUTELY would never own.
My hard line didn’t stop the kids from producing multiple “why we need a dog” presentations.

There were power points, youtube videos, dog-related reality shows, and my personal favorite, a full scale lecture with visual aids and spreadsheets. None of these demonstrations had the desired effect. I was a fortress. A giant physicalized NO. Four kids, a cat, a hedgehog and a dying business seemed like enough stress and responsibility.

Lock down takes a toll on your ability to say no to your family.

Mike always wanted a Wire-Haired Pointing Griffon. It was a bucket list item for him. Not me. My bucket list consists of travel and maybe another tattoo. A dog was on my, “how bout never” list. I am not a fan of K-9 crotch investigations and have always been irritated by planning around dog needs. For example, if a dog is the reason you can’t come to Thanksgiving, you might not make it in my gratitude journal (I don’t currently have one but I will one day).

The “NO DOG” routine I rehearsed earnestly over the years, was no match for a global pandemic.

Just as the six of us were becoming feral as a result of mandated isolation, a litter of Griffs were being domesticated in Central Oregon. Mike and the kids felt the stars had aligned and the Lord Himself had brought a puppy into the world just for us. I felt like that puppy was about to piss on my party.

And so…I fought against the idea…valiantly. I brought to bear lists of my own, outlining in great detail why dogs make life harder. I told stories of my childhood pet, Wheelow, who was a biter, and liked to dance fight. I reiterated Mike’s horror stories about Gus–Gus, who was kicked out of obedience school. I pointed at my deep and abiding fear of pit bulls due to an unfortunate incident I witnessed circa 2004. My cries of “NO DOG” were met with locked arms and wide eyed longing–my red flag discarded and replaced with puppy pictures. Their strategy was impressive and deliberately designed to hack away at my resolve. Each puppy they placed in front of me had a bow around its neck with little description. Mr. Blue–a gentle giant with a penchant for art. And Mr. Red–loves people and long walks on the beach. Mr. Black–has a sweet disposition and intelligence. I added the art and beach part, but the rest is true. They were irritatingly cute.

I started to feel angry at the family for putting me in this position. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I didn’t want to keep my people from getting to love a dog. We were home all the time, growing weary, our business was shut down, and I was in a dark place as I dealt with the passing of one of my best friends in the whole world–someone who just happened to love dogs as much (if not more) than she loved people. In a weird way, I felt like continuing to stand my ground was passing on an opportunity to love something that she did.

So, I folded.

Enter Anchor

It’s downright cliche–a pandemic puppy. An animal that everyone loves and I take care of. I should give more credit to Mike. He has enjoyed more than his fair share of puppy care, but I did all the late night work. Day three, I was up all night in my closet, cursing my family and trying to love this fuzzy, needy little creature with an underdeveloped bladder. My heart strings were plucked, but all I could hear in my head like a broke LP was “what is the upside”.

The Upside

I think I love my dog. He presses down on my heart (literally) when I am overwhelmed. He looks at me with compassion when I am doing it wrong. He forces me to walk faster than I otherwise would and I think he might even love me.

Fun fact: He has made life harder.

Invitation: Paint your pet night is coming at the Heart Gallery. Bring a picture of your pet, and let’s see what we come up with:) I’m gonna paint that guy (above).

So, what are you going to do now that all the kids are in school?

I would like to officially apologize to every woman I have said this to. I am pretty sure, I tried to funny it up when I asked, but the meta message was still there.

What on earth are you going to do with all that time, I wish I had, but I don’t.

I am not sure what a better question would even be. What are you going to do with all that potential? How do you intend to use your super powers now? Will you finally get to do all that you dreamed of doing before you became a nurse log? No matter how the inquiry is framed it feels something like: GET A JOB!

Mike calls this season my sabbatical–my golden moment to pursue health and discover my passions. (Where did I find a man like this, you ask? I had him made. Thank you Ken and Deb.) Unfortunately, my focus on health has awakened my inner hypochondriac. I can’t seem to get rid of the sensation that there is something stuck in my throat and am fairly confident that I am at death’s door. I don’t think this is what my dear husband had in mind, but here we are.

The pursuing my passions piece has been interesting, but I confess the pursuit has mostly consisted of random career assessment tests, solo brainstorming sessions and crying spells. I have unsuccessfully submitted one story to NPR, written one blog about being stuck in my own pants, painted a portrait of Einstein, and researched the voice over industry and how middle aged women can break into the field as painlessly as possible. I coach choir club once a week and occasionally practice long vowel sounds with Mrs. Juhl’s first grade class. I rock the orca costume from time to time, against my better judgment, but no longer on the regular. Overall, I just spend a lot of time feeling like somewhere along the way, the list of things I wanted to do with my life got lost, and now I need to find it.

As a result of my weird, possibly hormonally driven, quasi midlife crisis, I have required Mike to prepare and deliver weekly pep talks on the beauty, sexiness, wisdom and viability of women in their forties. (I turn forty in three months. The separation is in the preparation.) During these pep talks, I have been encouraged to think outside the box. So here I go. Jobs I would be interested in, if prior experience, education, salary and aptitude were non issues–followed by naysaying.

Astronaut–I am terrible at math, claustrophobic, and have poor vision. Not a great candidate for space travel.

Today Show Host: A little late to the game. The women seem to age out in their forties on that program. It’s like Dazed and Confused. Lauer keeps getting older… and the girls stay the same age.

Foreign Correspondent: Family put the kibosh on this option due to safety concerns but I think I would be awesome at it. As long as I am not required to wear pencil skirts. Those don’t sit well with me.

Travel Writer: Waiting for Rick Steves to kick the bucket.

Motivational Speaker: Might need to nail down my own motivation first, but I do have a stage name on lock down: Robin Tonies.

Artist: I set up an etsy account to sell paintings, but my “cyber store” remains empty due to a total lack of confidence and a fear of art consumers, who seem naughty by nature and prone to judgy feedback.

Disney Land Tour Guide: Typically this role is reserved for young people willing to wear safari shorts and tropical button downs. Not sure if I am willing to relocate the whole family to make that happen.

Diplomat: I AM a push over. So….you know….maybe.

Member of an Improv Troop: I hear these cats make like $50 a night and the hours are flexible.

Sea Gal: I could be the lady that all the wives don’t mind. The Sea “every woman” gal. The one that helps them decide it’s okay to wear pants. I would also encourage them to bring an end to the shimmy, shimmy, bend move. It is tiresome. Simply bending over is not a viable dance move and adding a couple shimmies before-hand doesn’t make it good. If I don’t make the cut, I will just promote the drinking game I created years ago, (aptly named) “The Shimmy, Shimmy, Bend Drinking Game”. The rules are simple. If they double shimmy and bend over, you drink. I guarantee public intoxication by half time. Go Hawks.

Blogger: With approximately 3 views a day, I think it might behoove me to seek other avenue for revenue.

Teaching: Not just yet. I want to get my little ones farther along in their own academic journey before I become uninterruptible after school due to a heavy workload. Teaching is no joke man.

Insert suggestion here: __________________________________________________________________

I realize this is a wonderful problem to have. And I completely understand if women with toddlers and or folks working 60+ hours a week want to punch me in the face. But, consider this: there is a degree of additional responsibility that comes with not having as many responsibilities anymore. For example: When you have four children, people expect you to be late. They are not surprised if you cancel. Most mistakes can be blamed, at least in part, on children. In general, no one expects much out of you outside of executing your maternal responsibilities. You are a hero for bathing.

So, what am I doing with myself, now that all the kids are in school? I’ll let you know when I find out. In the meantime, I am going to take a bath whenever I feel like it.

Questions for my little audience that I love:

I am nervous about turning forty and I am not sure why. Any ideas?
If you are in your forties, what do you love about it?
Did you or someone you know experience a mild crisis during a similar transition?
Know any good sermons on aging gracefully?

Tag: love

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