Problem Solving

Pt. XI

Fuck it all. Something had to be fixed.

I did not like living in a haze. I did not like feeling sad all the time. I did not want to abandon my husband for some guy. I had to fix the problems.

* * * * * *

My arguments with David, to the best of my recollection, went something along these lines:

Me: I felt very angry/upset/hurt/sad when you did/said/didn’t do/didn’t say ______.

David: I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.

Me: I know you didn’t. Maybe what’s really upsetting me is all the pressure, you know? Maybe in the future you could just _______.

David: I will try. I love you.

Me: I love you, too.

Except there was a lot more screaming and crying and insistence on my part. And a lot more apologizing on his part. We’d try and compromise, but you know.

* * * * * *

So clearly we were at a point where something big had to be done. We both knew it.

I did not ovulate in April, and we decided that instead of continuing on the hormonal route, we would put off having kids until we were in a better place.

And then we got to the heart of the issue.

David hadn’t found work yet and god. The house was such a force. I mean, on the surface, the financial drain of the house was a big issue. But below the surface was my resentment. I just wasn’t ready to be 25 and saying this is the one place I want to live for the rest of my life.

I just wanted to back up. Could we just back up a bit? To before I started freaking out?

Yes, let’s just realize that we did too much too soon and took on way too much grown-up-ness too early because we happened to get lucky.

So we did.

We mutually agreed that we would sell the house. Wham.

We would buy something smaller and easier (like a condo) and trendier and younger. We would start saving money again. (I wouldn’t have to go to Home Depot again, I could just call someone when something didn’t work.)

But...what about the dogs? What if the new place doesn’t take dogs? We’d have a lot more living options if we didn’t have the dogs.

Too much too soon.

We mutually agreed that we would find homes for the dogs. Wham.

It is all for the best.

* * * * * *

We called the breeder who gave us Basker and explained to her that our suburban dreams didn’t quite go as planned.

After nine months of pouring my energy and time and money and so much love into the training of the cutest dog that’s ever lived, he still hadn’t developed a strong bond with me. He still liked playing with other dogs (and my poor cats) better. I’d never seen anything like it.

When Gail came to pick up my beloved baby, I had pages of instructions. An entire legal page (front and back) of vocabulary words he knew. Boxes of toys.

He happily bounded into her van and she drove him back to her farm. He went to go live on a huge farm with five or so other dogs.

We called to check up on him regularly. He was fabulous, she said. He was perfectly happy.

I never cry about David anymore. But I cry about my dog.

* * * * * *

We’d only had Scarlet for three months, and while she was sweet and adorable and loving and had bonded with us, it still felt pretty new. I told the people at our vet’s office that we were looking to find her a home.

I got a call from the receptionist who said that she and her husband felt that maybe their 9-year-old daughter, Kristin, was ready for another pet. She had cerebral palsy, and had taken the loss of their first dog (two years before) very hard. But recently Kristin had taken to naming worms in the front yard, so they thought she might be keen on something with fur.

One evening, they came over just to meet Scarlet, so that they could see how Kristin would interact with a growing puppy. The plan was that they would come meet her and see how it went; if afterwards Kristin continued to speak about Scarlet, they would consider adopting her.

Inevitably, they left that night with my darling girl.

Of course, we called to check up on her, too. Scarlet and Kristin had become very good friends, and even though they had a strict, no-dog-on-beds rule, apparently Scarlet would sneak into Kristin’s room at night and sleep curled up at the foot of her bed.

Yep. Still cry about the dogs.

* * * * * *

We were going to sell the house. We were child-free. We had a plan that was sad in many ways (wow, this feels like a whole lot of failure), but for the best.

Let’s get back to when it was just about us.

Yes, that will work. It has to. Right?

Right?