My Dog Was My Best Friend After My Divorce By Kay Tacke Morse

My dog Clemens is my main man. Yeah I know he is a dog and can’t speak People and he has a bit too much hair than I am drawn too, but who he is resonates with my system. We are in harmony. He’s my Yang. I love him with my heart. We have pal love and loyalty. He’s fun and noble and protective and handsome and smart and and can be fierce for me if need be. All that in one darling package. At exactly 5 he circles and circles in the kitchen. Dinner time. I like a guy that can tell time.

My Dog Was My Best Friend After My Divorce

kay tacke morse

He just plain gets it. Us. His tribe. He is the glue for my three teens and me, the centerpiece of our love. He has been there when each of us hit bottom, offering his hand-paw and soft ears to spark hope for a reset. He intuits each day, us and molds himself to fit our needs and we do the same for him. Our polarity becoming a harmony of sorts.

Clemens is a celebrity on the streets of Portland. He is devastatingly Clark Gable handsome. We have our routes, namely to coffee and the park. He has been blogged about by some quirky hip Portlandia types that got Clem under their flannels. He is a people whisperer. He has such distain for Pugs, and now so do I. We are in such synch, I, through our connection adopt his prejudice.

It took an adjustment moving to town. The big city. The elevator freaked Clemens out (me too, I was stuck for 5 minutes that seemed like a day last summer). The snarky pugs on 16 pushed his Cujo button. He got very very ill the first night on 6. Clemens projectiled out both ends. I thought it was the packing tape that eventually made its way out. He got better after awhile.

Fast forward 6 months, I moved to 23, more light and a view of the clouds and mountain. I am in a slice of heaven. Move day inspired another projectile fit for Clem, both ends again. I had to carry a role of paper towels with me when I took him out for he left the sidewalks unfit to step upon. I was His Sir Walter Raleigh covering the puddles with my cloak for the Queen to keep her velvet shoes tidy. We ran out of paper towel rolls that day. I got him in my car and into the woods where we both could breath. We love the Enchanted Forest.

We ran into the two some first, the sparky springer type looking Spaniels. Then the no stranger to the woods lady guardian to the perky pups walked up close to me. She looks at me and smiles. She stares at me, looks into me. Your dog is beautiful, she says. I agree to myself, I don’t take his exterior beauty that matches his interior beauty equally, for granted. He just told Betty and Jo (her Spaniel types) they are not very smart, she says, still looking at me. I think, Clem is kind, he wouldn’t be so rude, would he? I feel defensive.

She goes on, He is very bright and he knows it. Shit, my dog is arrogant. I think my main man can not be an ass can he? I want to know more, glean some clarity from this labeling, judging wood walking lady with a stick. Uh hi, I am Kay and this is Clemens. Can she read my mind too? Spooky. I am Ellen. Betty and Jo are bright enough but not to the level your Clemens deems equal. He is regal, Kay and has standards. Shit, my dog is arrogant. I share with Ellen the move and projectile challenge. She looks me in the eye, kind of comforting but still a bit worried she can read my mind, I am thinking of the Whole Bowl, extra avocado, I am hungry. I want to concentrate on what she is saying. Kay, talk with him. When you leave let him know where you are going and when you will be back (oh yah he can tell time-dinner’s at 5-he is smart and darn, a snob, evidently). He is upset about the move, she says . He needs, deserves to know what is going on in his world, your world. She says it in a nice sharing with me way, not Judgey at all. It will help ease his upset stomach. Thanks, Ellen. She hands me her card. She is a dog whisperer. Sherlock. She works for several local vets that have integrated her services into their practice. Smart cold calling on the trails, I think to myself. She smiles. She read my thoughts that time. We part ways.

Even with his arrogance toward pugs and spaniels, I love Clemens. He is my man. We have great camaraderie. We have patience and devotion.

I have heeded Ellen’s advice. I let Clemens know what’s up and coming up. He seems to get some of it. As ‘they’ say, communication is the key to a happy enriched relationship. And sometimes, we need a translator to help us speak to those dear to us. Thanks Ellen.

Gratitude to the translators who have facilitated enriched communication with my folks that matter to my heart.