Accepting Reality: I’m a Crazy Dog Lady
Well, it finally happened. Today I officially became a Crazy Dog Lady. I’ve been teetering on the brink for years, but this afternoon I went ahead and jumped the shark.
Picture this: There I was, driving down the road with Mr. Dog Walker (aka the Snow Ninja). I looked over to the right as we cruised by a sweet little house that we’ve passed before. Once or twice, I’ve spotted an old black Lab lying out in the driveway of this house, sunning himself. Today as we approached the house I spotted my friend again. Thinking of him enjoying this sunny day, warming his senior bones on the blacktop, I felt my heart swell up a little.
“Aw, look,” I said to Mr. Dog Walker, “I love that dog.” And I pointed towards the driveway as we passed in front of the sweet little house.
Mr. Dog Walker looked at the driveway and looked back at me. He was looking at me like he thought maybe I was having a little bit of a mild stroke. One glance at his face and I knew I had done something weird. Again. Let’s face it, I see this look on his face a lot.
So I slowed down and looked more closely at the dog, lying there in the warm mid-day sun. And to my utter horror I realized that this dog, the one who I thought was taking a peaceful snooze was actually a…
wait for it…
A duffle bag.
A black gym bag, if you will. Some discarded luggage behind a parked car in a driveway.
Yes, there had been a dog there in the past. But not today. My crazy dog lady brain had taken one look at this slouchy duffle bag and transposed the body of a resting dog.
Not only had I seen the dog instead of the bag, but I was moved by this bag. The sight of this bag at rest had made me feel all warm and fuzzy.
I was touched by a duffle bag.
“Oh ha! It’s a bag,” I said to Mr. Dog Walker who was now laughing partly at me, partly in fear of me.
“There was a dog there before. I swear.”
Right. Like it mattered.
In one brief moment I had rocketed over the line from: Professional Dog Lover to Crazy Dog Lady. The kind of dog nut that sees dogs everywhere and in everything. The kind of person that is moved to the brink of tears by the sight of a Lab-shaped duffle bag “napping” in the sun.
Oh man. The first step is admitting you have a problem right?
So where do I register? Is there a certificate that I should apply for, so that I can make my new status as a Crazy Dog Lady official? Will the DMV stamp a turd-shaped stencil over my photo? Do I register with local law enforcement to warn them of who they’re dealing with if they encounter me on the loose?
Really, I do feel like I earned at least some sort of official acknowledgement.
I certainly reached a new level of…something.
Should I add CDL to the end of my name? Jessica Dolce CDL (Crazy Dog Lady). Or like dog trainers, it could be CDL-KA for Crazy Dog Lady – Kraziness Assessed.
Maybe this was meant to be and I should roll with it. I can take inspiration from the “Lab” that changed it all. Aka my Heart-Duffle.
We recently bought some land, with a barn. Perhaps it’s time for me to open my own rescue. I could start by taking in small purses from last season. Maybe a clutch or two. Then move on to unwanted messenger bags, moldy gym bags, and backpacks. If I can secure 501c3 status, I might be able to raise funds to support a sanctuary for unwanted steamer trunks and unclaimed luggage.
They could live out the rest of their days in my fenced in yard, sitting in the sun, and capturing the eye of other Crazy Dog Ladies who drive by my house.
Sigh. Welcome to my new reality.
I mean well, I swear.