Pause of the Paws: 4 Advantages of a Pup-free Year

photo credit: Brad Zerivitz

It was a rebellious act. But that’s one upside of living solo: no one sees what you do or say or how you act unless you want them to. (Or unless you forget to shut the blinds.) One recent weekend, with a duo of lively pups under my watch, I sat down as I do every morning and wrote three pages worth of what came to mind, a stream of consciousness in companionship with my mug o’ joe. I called it, “reasons why not having a dog right now is good for me.” This, I reminded myself, was not a dishonor to Ferg, not a blow to a pup-rich lifestyle. Even though a sliver of me wanted to fight back on that. It was simply clarity emerging for me in the moment worth not shoving down or blowing over. Not worth forcing away. I'm now calling it the pause of the paws.

Ferg emphasized that intuition is our everything. That it’s not complicated, but so very simple. One step, one sniff at a time learning to follow the trail of what smells good and being open to where it leads. And right now, all arrows point to paying attention to pausing: from getting another fur pal just yet. From the constant go-go-go lifestyle of zipping around the country and world. And a giant yes to nesting, discovering, deepening what’s right in front of me because I’m pretty sure that around these parts, there’s more juicy stuff waiting to be found.

I’ve come across a message repeatedly this past year. Again, it found me last night in a “suggested for you” TED Talk: animal companionship loss hurts so much because it’s an uncomplicated, unconditional love. They crave and nuzzle without asking us to be anyone other than our true selves. Prime us to be more of exactly who we are without layers of masks and trying.

Ferg, in essence, primed me for this chapter of pause to give all the love and care and nurturing I was used to devoting to him back to myself now, too. So I can practice being a version of me where the inside matches the outside. And through this, dreams and surprises continue to grow by not forcing, but instead by identifying gifts inside of what life is like right now. So here are four things I’m savoring without a pup of my own, sans after taste of guilt.

On rare occasion, I'd even make the bed AROUND him.

1. Rest God bless old man Ferg who stayed in bed with me till 10:00 a.m. on mornings off when his bladder could hold it knowing mama unapologetically needs her beauty sleep. Now, I’m able to get more of it. Build my life around how my body likes it with more slow mornings and later creative nights.

There’s a commitment we honor when we care for other members of our household, a compromise. And let me say, it feels pretty damn good to not roll out of bed prematurely to throw on sweat pants, slink out the door with sleep crud still stuck in the corners of my eyes and force small talk to a well-meaning neighbor who’s just trying to be friendly chirping “Good morning!!!” in our face as Ferg does the deed. With rest and indulgent morning routine comes a clear mind, higher energy levels to pursue what surprises the day has in store, and a regeneration of cells giving way to a new way of living.

2. Exploration Let’s take airplane trips out of the picture for a second. We know the anxiety of travel without our second halves: boarding and care plans, anxiety of being gone. What I soon realized without Ferg as co-pilot in that front seat of the car on road trips, day trips even was the amount of energy I naturally invested in those details, tailoring every part of a trip to his needs.

Going to the beach? Can’t be too hot, must have shade, don’t forget his water bowl and towel and treats and will we be gone past five p.m.? Maybe, yes, okay so better pack some dinner in case for him and throw in another bottle of water. Or four.

I loved caring for him. AND, it took a lotta energy. (And let’s be real: who says I always pack light these days on local jaunts along the East Coast.) But what is freeing is the ability to focus on what’s in front and around me: spending a day entirely in the ocean waves. Taking four hour hikes without an aching back. Stopping at restaurants and eating inside spontaneously. Pit stops at gas stations without weighing where to keep him. It was a weird feeling at first to only think about myself. But it also feels liberating.

3. Flexibility Want a great excuse to duck out early from a party you’re not feeling? Blame it on the dog. Can’t stay long, Ferg’s gotta eat! Gotta run, Ferg’s gotta go out! Really, he was the BEST excuse. But know what I’m also seeing as a great excuse? Me. And it goes both ways. Spontaneous drink at a famed Italian restaurant after three hours of embassy open house-ing? Sure! Impromptu detour to a farmer’s market after a camping trip? Why not! Don’t want any of these and just want to go home? I’m allowed. No excuses necessary. 4. Deepened passions My volunteer time at the aquarium is one of the most rewarding fruits of my move here. And the hours-long commitment, the drive, the interaction with vulnerable species in a quarantine space would make it hella lot trickier to navigate life with a senior (or non-senior!) pup back at home. Cross-contamination worries, bladder worries, balancing quality time worries. What a gift to have space to follow my curiosities and say yes to deepening honors around recurring interests while discovering brand new ones, too.

If there’s one thing that ignited a walloping case of westitude in Ferg, it was rushing him. A pull on the leash, a loud “let’s GO bud!” and he’d dig his claws deeper into the ground: nuh-uh. We’re staying right here. And I have to say, the same is growing more true for me, too. Because there’s plenty to sip on and savor right where I am, for now.