I was freaking out, I couldn’t find her, anywhere.
I rushed around our condo checking every room again and again. It was only a one bedroom with a den, so I had no idea how I couldn’t find her. The condo was not that big but neither was Buffy.
This was back in before we had children about a month after we this little puppy. I was getting comfortable with her in the house so I stared letting her around outside her pen some of the time. She wasn’t fully house-trained but she was making great progress. While she did have accidents every so often, I had gotten into the groove of schedule which allowed me to predict when she needed to go out, and we were having a lot of success.
I was home for that summer break, so it would just me be and Buffy while Diana was at work. We would go up and down that condo elevator, many, many times a day. She wasn’t quite walking well on a leash at this point, so I’d let her explore different areas around our block and then just pick her up and carry her home when it was time to go home. Yes, we spent time teaching her how to walk on the leash, but sometimes it was just easier, and a whole lot cuter to carry her.
We had just gotten back from a walk, and I was sure she didn’t need to go, so I figured that she could wander around the condo while I made some lunch. As I sat down to eat, I called, “here, Buffy.” I looked around and didn’t see her walk up which wasn’t a huge surprise. Buffy wasn’t great at the come command (and she still isn’t). That’s when I started looking for her.
I was panicking. Even though I knew I had brought her into the condo, I checked the hallway and even the trash chute. I could not figure out where she was in the condo. I went from the laundry room, closet, kitchen, living room, den, bedroom, and finally to the bathroom, and she was nowhere to be seen.
I looked everywhere.
I felt for the first time in my life this fear. It was combined with helplessness, a vision of loss in my future. Standing there in the condo, I was also struck the feeling that I had really let down Diana. Then I turned around and saw one more door, the door to our walk-in closet. I had looked in there before, but I had a feeling that it was worth checking one more time.
I opened the door, and didn’t see Buffy anywhere. I got on my knees and pushed my hand into corners of the closet which were covered by low-hanging clothing. In the corner, covered by the bottom of the dress shirts I felt the puppy fuzz of Buffy and I pulled her out and looked at her. She yawned in my face and gazed at me wondering why I was so upset. I put her down and she walked away like nothing had happened.
I’ve felt that fear again.
I felt it when I lost track of Ollie in a play space, and for what was likely a minute but felt like a lot longer. I felt it when I throttled myself down the stairs ahead of Ethan’s body as he fell down the stairs to catch him. I felt it last week when Lucas somehow managed to climb up the doggy stairs to the couch and almost fell off the couch. And I felt it when I saw a dog attack Buffy.
It’s a fear that can only come from the idea of a loss being so devastating, it hurts to imagine. It’s a fear that comes from having the responsibility for another person’s life, and it’s a fear that is an expression of loving someone completely, with all of your being.
It’s a feature of parenthood, a reminder to be careful and not take for granted the ones that we love.
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