Life Pegs

I have asked myself a hundred times - why a dog? Why now? In the past, with one exception, any dog in my house was a cast off from someone else, and neither my pick nor desire. This is hardly the time to be complicating my life with a puppy!

Those around me mistakenly interpret my choice not to have a dog as cold hearted, but it has always been a conscious choice on my part to share my resources, time, energy and love with my children, sisters, parents, friends, and those less fortunate rather than to indulge my own desire for companionship. So I have earned monikers about being hard hearted and uncaring when in fact, I always thought it was the more caring choice.

The only time I allowed a puppy in my house was when Michael had his first health crisis. It was a doozie and he remained unconscious for days while the doctors tried to figure out what was wrong. At one point, I leaned over his bedside in the intensive care unit at Albany Medical Center and promised him unequivocally that if he would fight to open his eyes and stay with us, I would get him a dog.

He had always wanted a dog. He had asked for one, begged for one, played unendingly with the neighbor's dog, looked longingly at them in the pet stores. But he knew my rule and he knew I was unbending on the point. Whether or not that had anything to do with his slow recovery, I was bound by my promise. True to my word, after he came home, we picked out a darling springer spaniel for him.

We called him Buster Brown, and he was all Michael could have hoped for - a handful indeed. I was still not crazy about dogs, but I cared for this one because he bonded with my son whose medical struggles continued to demand attention. After Michael died, Buster wouldn't eat. He would have also died had it not been for the ministrations of a kind neighbor to whom we gave the dog after he nursed the poor creature back to life.

So why did I think that giving Michael a dog would make him want to live? I am beginning to believe that there are certain connections on this earth that pin people in place; connections that act as pegs which hold us to life, make us fight to hang on even in tough circumstances.

It is often said that when people are in the process of dying, they will wait until some child has arrived, or that they will refuse to let go of life until they are alone. It was that way for my Grandmother. She was 90, ill, and ready to go. I sat with her at night so she would not be alone. She hung on despite all indicators to the contrary. Finally, a nurse encouraged me to get a bit of a break in the lounge, and when I left the room, Gram passed within minutes.

Perhaps I was the peg holding her in place. Perhaps Buster was the peg that Michael could hold on to while he was hanging between life and death. Perhaps Sugar is my statement that I will surround myself with as many pegs as I can to give me handles for hanging on to life during this bout of treatment.

Of course, I want to live and take care of Drew at least until he is done with college. Of course, I want to be able to spend time getting to know my grandchildren. Of course I would like to see my other children graduate and marry and settle into careers and houses.

But there is something about being responsible for a fragile and dependant being that has a stronger pull than even the normal pegs in my life. Yes, I know on some level that Drew would manage to do everything just fine on his own even though he shouldn't have to. And the grandchildren have their parents. And of course, Sugar will be cared for in my absence.

But I think there is something inside me, silly as it sounds, that identifies with the statement of taking on the care and dependency of a puppy at this specific time. I am shouting silently to my body that I will not give up, give in, lay down, let go, refuse to be responsible, or in any way tolerate an interruption in my life. I will keep "pegging away" until I have nothing left or until the good Lord calls time.

Either that, or I am just being silly.