Facebook Publication Date: 10/12/2019 17:10

Lace on Race
Relational Ethics (Applied)

On Kind Candor Part 1

So.

I was ready to tackle laundry. Which, in my current dryerless state, takes more fortitude than you know.

Who just plopped by my feet, and is making me stay firmly in this chair?

One guess.

I should have known. She lumbered in here with eyes that needed mine, and a head that needed scratching. We napped separately this afternoon; she in the laundry room that is now just a pipe dream for me, and I had the couch all to myself.

I checked earlier; she was right at the door. The choice was a difficult one; rouse her and do actual work (please) or go back to the living room and check mail.

And think about this. Kind Candor. What we consider a hallmark, but have never, as a community truly meditated on together.

Figured I’d continue ruminating while sorting.

Welp.

Not to be. She is draped strategically now, this 60 pound immovable object that plopped down once she had her due.

I am not an irresistible force. It’s always such a quiet joy, being at the mercy of Tikka Rose. I look down and see her belly rising; up then down then up then down. Slight pressure on my foot. When I move, she finds my foot again, even in sleep. What laundry?

Tikka had a hard life before we found each other. She was the companion of a homeless man; she was at his side when he passed, the guy at the shelter told me. They kept her longer than they should have; they didn’t want her to go to just anyone who could pony up 69 bucks and a valid address. My living on an acre was a plus for me. Still, I wasn’t sure. She’s a Lab mix, with just enough pit that you can see it in certain angles in her face, and in her compact body but with long Lab legs. I didn’t want to re train a dog from bad habits. The attendant reassured me. In the time they had her, she was a doll; if anything too accommodating. They put other new dogs in with her, and she calmed them down. She was quiet, but also quietly protective of her charges.

So, I decided to try her out. We went out to the lawn area, and I pretended to read as she sniffed and looked and finally sat down at my feet.

Welp.

Almost sure. But she was the first one that I took out; I should look at others, I said. Newer models (Tikka was 4 at the time), I had lost my last dog, Beautiful Bellaroza, after cancer. I still missed her so. Fully a year and a half after I lost her could I even consider looking for another companion.

So, I gave her back to the trainer, and asked about others. He looked shocked; he thought this was a done deal. (Turns out he was a reader too.)

But Tikka had other ideas. In her mind, she had found her person. She reached back and did a move, one that I now know she rarely does. She leapt onto my chest, and looked at me, kindly; frankly. Who are you kidding? she asked. Let’s cut the crap and start our lives together!

And so we did. 20 minutes to insure I checked out. A long twenty minutes. Almost anticlimatic when they led her to me in the waiting room. Quiet, not grandiose joy. Just inevetability.

And so here we are. Tikka is gentle and sweet. But also fully knows her person, that is to say, me. There is nothing like Tikka on the weekends when I am sleeping in, waking me up with a happy bark, either inside close to me, or outside on the porch. Food time! Nuzzle time! Tail wagging, expression of the joy of waking up. Don’t know what’s gonna happen today, but it’s gonna be good! Don’t waste the day!

That bark is a doozy. Not an angry bark, not an anxious bark. But a bark. More than one, till I open my eyes and look at her happy face, or open the door so she can bound in. Then panting and her clumsy attempts to move covers. I get up, and the day begins.

Sometimes, particularly earlier, I had wished she was more like Bellaroza; breathing in my face, quiet whimper; googly eyes. A gentle rouse from slumber.

But then I also remember the times when I slept through Bella’s gentleness. Late for work; sleeping too long on the weekends, getting cramped and that sort of hangover headache that comes from too much slumber..

Turns out, I need a bark sometimes. Sometimes I need covers off. Turns out I need to stand up and stretch.

And it would not happen without Tikka’s bark(s).

So tell me, what has all this to do with Kind Candor?

Comments only.

P.S. Tikka Rose has not moved. I am still held hostage. Would give anything for my pretzel snacks. But they’re fully 10 feet away. Might as well be ten miles.

Might as well write part 2.

Arf.

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