We've been locked in one place for three months now. Charlie living a fraction of our old life waiting for the house to sell and me living a piece of our future here. Neither can currently add to a whole.
I have much, sometimes too much, to do at work but a small, crowded room in a place I never imagined myself in the most boheimian of daydreams or nightmares. Charlie has our beautiful home on the island and long empty days dedicated to a quest which rests in the hands of others -- selling the house. I know how frustrating it is for him. I hate the dull, flat tones in his voice on the the phone.
Sometimes we talk about what it will be like when we are here together in a place that will be ours, but lately even that seems cruel and taunting.
He has Jen with him, doing everything and more a daughter could possibly do to keep his spirits up. I have my extended family and new friends here. But at about 3 o'clock every morning, I find myself wondering what the hell we are doing.
We lost our Smokie just before I left and never got a chance to mourn her together. We talk about the puppy we'll get when Charlie moves up here, but the "when-we-get-up-here" list has grown so long and unwieldly that none of it seems real.
Enter Jude.
Jude is the very pampered pup of our dear friend Carol. He has both an intestinal disorder that nearly starved him to death and a high sense of drama. Carol dotes on Jude for the months she stays in the states, but her primary home and her job are in London. He was too sick to be returned to the family of many pets who usually keep him on the island. Taking care of Jude is currently a fulltime job. The vet says Jude should weigh at least 50 pounds. He currently weighs 33 after putting three pounds back on.
So Charlie and Jen are on Jude watch. He moved in last night for the month until Carol returns. After several "adapting" visits, he arrived with bags of special foods and treats and the understanding that while he may not make it, he has his best chance with round-the-clock care.
I worried about the additional stress this would put on Charlie and Jen while recognizing there were likely no better candidates in the world to take on the task.
I heard last night on the phone about how Jude "returned" his previous meal while Charlie and Jen were eating dinner. Jude woke up ever-squeamish Jen this morning the same way.
But they were laughing as they talked about it and telling funny stories about how the cats are adapting to the idea that Jude is now in their space and Jude's flair for drama and sympathy. Jude may look like a starving refugee right now, but if anyone can bring him around, my money is on Charlie.
And even if he can't heal Jude, Jude is healing him.




Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs