Little adjustments

Sometimes I think that it is the small, incremental changes in life that are the hardest to handle.  Big changes are...well...big.  They require a complete overhaul of life, a paradigm shift, or a drastic leap (in one direction or the other) away from everything that you are used to.  While I would never make the claim that these big changes aren't difficult, it's just that adjusting to them and accepting them as they occur can sometimes happen more suddenly.

For comparison's sake, let's think about when you wake up in the morning.  Say, for example, you wake up at 7:30 every morning (lucky you).  As you start the week, you realize that on Wednesday morning you have a very early meeting and you are going to have to wake up at 5:30, 2 hours earlier, in order to make it on time.  While you probably will dread this, here's what you might do to prep for it: on Tuesday night, you might decide to skip a workout or happy hour and make dinner early.  You'll put yourself to bed early.  Then in the morning when that 5:30 AM alarm goes off, it still sucks, but at least you're prepared for it. [note: this, of course, only applies to planned big changes.]

Now, keeping in mind that 7:30 typical wake up, let's say that Friday morning you realize that you have to stop by the grocery store on the way to work and pick up some snacks for a staff lunch party.  To accommodate for the extra time this will take, you decide to set your alarm for 7:15.  Since it's only a 15 minute difference, you don't alter your Thursday evening schedule.  You may try to get in bed a little early but don't really fall asleep until your normal time anyways.  And then in the morning when the alarm goes off, you can't believe it's already time to get up.  To be able to sleep for another 15 minutes would feel amazing, but you peel yourself out of bed anyways.  And for the rest of the day, that 15 minutes lingers with you.  By the end of the day, you're exhausted.

For those planned big changes, you prep yourself.  You get yourself ready.  You make sure you are set up for success when that big change arrives.  But for little changes, you think to yourself "eh, no big deal" and let them arrive.  But as little as that change is, you feel it like a big one.  Because you didn't ready yourself for it.  It throws you off kilter enough for you to notice a difference, but not necessarily want to do anything about it.

When it comes to change, I'd say I've done a pretty good job learning how to handle the big ones.  A few major job changes, a cross-country move to a city where I knew exactly one person, becoming a marathoner--all these things have helped me to feel comfortable with pre-planned big changes.  In fact, oftentimes I look forward to these changes.  Because I usually choose to make them happen at just the point when I need a change.

But little changes...that's a different story. I hate waking up 15 minutes early (even though I have do it every Thursday morning).  And that's the smallest of the little changes.  But when I have to make little changes, or adjustments to my life, things seem to be off kilter for longer than the big changes.  It takes me a lot longer to find my equilibrium when I'm changing things just a little bit at a time.

Take my running right now.  I'm still not fully recovered.  I've been injured for almost 5 months now.  And I still can't figure out the balance that I need to stay healthy.  Every week, I run on different days, for different distances, at different paces, and I've been slowly altering my run/walk intervals.  But no matter what I do, no matter how little or how much I push myself, I can't find the balance that makes everything feel better again.

Running kind of feels like this right now.  I'm out there and I'm doing it and
for the most part I'm enjoying it, but I have no idea what's coming up around
that next bend in the road.

Last Wednesday, I went for an amazing run.  I was itching to put some miles on my legs, but hesitating to do too much.  I've been sticking to Green Lake loops lately so that I can cut things short if anything starts to hurt.  But I decided to be daring on Wednesday.  I decided to tackle one of my hillier, longer loops through Ballard.  It was pouring rain, and after a trying day with my first graders, all I wanted to do was run--and run fast.  So I did.  I still stuck to my current 8:1 interval, but even with the walk breaks included, I logged some paces I haven't seen on a 5+ mile run in quite a while.  It was one of those days where everything felt strong and great--even the rain.  I let the rain soak through me and pound against me, and it only made me fight harder.  While nothing is pain-free yet, I was almost able to forget about my nagging knee.

Then I let myself rest for 2 days and went out to coach a TNT practice on Saturday morning.  We took some hilly loops through Discovery Park and Magnolia, and I was less than 2 miles into the run when my knee pain intensified and didn't stop for the rest of the 12 mile run.  It was the first time I ever had to consciously make the choice to try to run less miles during a coaching run.  So frustrating.

I can't help but continue to be frustrated with the ups and downs of running for me when all these little adjustments I keep trying to make just don't seem to be working quickly enough.  And then I remember that they are little adjustments.  I need to give them time.  I definitely have a lot more good days than bad days now.  But what's funny is, as much as I have an endless font of patience for my first graders and my job, I have very little patience when it comes to running.  I want to be better and I want to feel good now.  I'm tired of all these little adjustments that might slowly be working their way towards an equilibrium.

But running isn't the only thing I'm making adjustments for right now.  There's also this little lady:

My lovely little snuggle-muffin.

Lucy and I have been spending that last 2 weeks adjusting to life with Penny.  And the strangest thing about adding Penny to our family was that it wasn't a big change.  When I made the whim of a decision to bring Penny home, I expected life to be very different.  I expected to have to make some big changes to me and Lucy's comfortable routines.

Somewhat unsurprisingly considering serendipity of events that occurred in order for me and Penny to meet and quickly fall in love, Penny has absorbed herself with ease into my and Lucy's life.  However, once I realized that Penny wasn't a drastic change in our lives, it became more challenging for me to make the little adjustments necessary for Penny.

The biggest example is our morning walks.  Penny is still going through this hesitant, not-sure-about-walking thing.  I've realized that it mainly is a result of anything to do with the sky.  She definitely does not like rain.

I bought her this snazzy little jacket.  She loves it so much she even helps
me put it on her.

She also doesn't like things in the sky.  We passed by a park and she spotted some sort of toy hovercraft in the sky (I never would have noticed it, but she zoned in on it until I was able to spot it).  She was shaking with fright for the rest of the walk.  She also doesn't seem to like tall walls next to her or loud buses.

In general, we've had to make a lot of adjustments on our walks.  I've changed up some of our routes.  In the mornings, if it's raining, Penny only comes out for a potty break--then we drop her back off at home and Lucy and I continue on our way.  This has eaten into a little bit of Lucy's morning exercise time.

When Penny does join us for long walks, I'm now juggling two leashes and often, since they seem to be quite in sync with their potties, I could also be carrying 2 poop bags along with those leashes until we find a garbage can.

It's not always easy managing both of these two, especially when another
four legged friend walks by.  Penny will wiggle her butt with all her might
with excitement to say hello, which puts Lucy a little on edge and lunging
where she didn't previously.

Every morning/afternoon walk is a question.  How will Penny do?  Where will we be able to go, and how far?  Will she get scared, or will this be an okay walk?  What was once the most relaxing part of my day--a long walk with Lucy--has now become something a little more involved.

Not that I'm complaining.  I love Penny and wouldn't trade her for anything.  It's just a little adjustment.  Which for me, takes a lot of getting used to.

Other small adjustments that I've had to make for Penny include giving up 3/4 of my queen size bed to a 40lb dog, learning to share my overabundance of puppy love equally between two lady-dogs, and learning how to type on a laptop with a dog in my lap.

This puts quite a strain on the finger-typing muscles along the length of
my right arm.

I also can no longer go to the bathroom alone.

"Whatcha doin in here, mom?"

All these little changes, whether from running or Penny, haven't been easy.  But as with any challenge I've faced up until now, I'm learning a ton.  And the biggest benefit I think I'm getting out of all of this?

I'm learning to be flexible.

Flexible with my time.  Flexible with my routines.  Flexible with the trivialities of daily life.

I've always considered myself to be a pretty flexible person when it comes to working with/socializing with people.  But when it comes to my own personal routines, flexibility has never been something I've desired or needed to have in my single (and single-dog) life.  And if becoming more flexible with my personal "me" time is a side-effect of all these small adjustments, I'll take it.  

Now that I'm 30, I figure it's about time I learn to let go of a little bit of that rigidity.  Because I'd hope in the not-too-far-away future, that flexibility will start to come in handy.

And in the meantime, whenever things to start feel a little too overwhelming, I'll just take a look at these two:

And then everything will be all better.

Suddenly, life is different

*Side note: I was going to put a little note in here about why I haven't written in so long, but I've decided I need to stop feeling the compulsion to explain any extended absence from the blogosphere.  Life happens and I doubt you really care all that much.  Sometimes I take breaks.  No more explanation necessary.  Now on to more important matters...

I know that many of you were quite surprised last week to find out that Lucy and I had a new addition to our  small family.

Penny!!

I was too.

Penny was in no way a planned addition to the family.  Penny just kind of happened.  But let me explain.

As we know, from my "30 things to do before I'm 30" list, I happily checked off the item "walk dogs at the animal shelter."  I picked up a 2 hour weekly shift and will soon be switching to the running group.  

We may also remember that I posted this on Facebook shortly after getting approved as a walker:

It was a joke, but apparently I'm the only one that thought so.

I didn't get trained as a walker until mid December, and then didn't do my first walking shift until just after New Year's Eve.  So from the start of my first walking shift, I made it exactly 7 weeks without bringing a friend home for Lucy.  Although I had to be absent for 2 of those shifts, so technically I guess it was only 5 weeks.

Mathematics aside, I don't think it would have mattered when I met her.  I hate to sound so cheesy and cliche, but it was love at first sight.

I mean seriously, look at that face.

I walked in on Thursday evening for my shift and did my usual stroll through the kennels to see who I'd like to walk first.  There weren't a ton of walkable dogs that night, and as soon as I laid eyes on Penny (her name was Daffodil at the time), I ran and grabbed a leash before any of the other walkers could snatch her up.

As soon as I opened the kennel and bent down to leash her up, she immediately jumped in my lap (she's a little too big to be a lap dog, but she doesn't seem to know that).  She was shaking and scared and all she wanted to do was cuddle.  My heart began to ache for her right away.

When I finally got the leash on her and took her outside, the shaking didn't stop, and she refused to walk past the outdoor kennels at the shelter.  So I went with her inside one of the play areas, where she immediately hopped up onto the one bench in the area.  I sat down next to her, she sidled up next to me, half sitting on me, and we sat there together for 10 minutes as she continued to shake.  More heart ache for this sweet little girl.

Once I finally got her to walk, she was great on the leash aside from every few moments where she would stop suddenly and begin shaking again.

When we got back inside the shelter and I put her back in the kennel, even though there were no more dogs left to walk, I couldn't leave.  I went back into her kennel with her and snuggled for another good while.  As other volunteers walked by, they joked that we both looked way too comfortable together.

When I finally pried myself away from her to head home, I told a few of the other volunteers "If she's still here next week, I'm adopting her."  I call this my attempt at sanity.  My attempt at being smart and not getting another dog.  My attempt at convincing myself that this was just another cute shelter dog--I'd trust that she'd be adopted by a good family and I'd be happy for her.  Because she was way too lovable and I knew she would be adopted in a snap.

Just look at this princess.  How could you not fall in love?

But something strange happened that I can't quite describe when I got in my car and began pulling away from the shelter.  It physically felt wrong leaving her behind.  My heart was pounding, my fingers shaking, and suddenly I knew that there was something about this dog that was different from all the rest.  It quite literally felt like I had left a chunk of my heart in that kennel with her.

But I still wasn't ready to admit that I was going to take her home.  As much as I'd joked and talked about being tempted into getting another dog when I started volunteering, I never actually expected to.  I didn't think I should.  Or could.

So I posted this on Facebook (because when you're looking for encouragement, one way or another you can find it on Facebook...)

And the overwhelming response from my FB community: "do it!!"  I had hoped for sanity.  I should have remembered that a large portion of my friends are die-hard dog lovers too.

After a phone conversation with Nadine (TNT coach and fellow Seattle Animal Shelter dog walker/enthusiast), I had already formulated a plan for going in to adopt Penny the next day.

Although I still hadn't admitted to myself that I was doing it.

Then I went to a trivia night which just happened to be at Norm's (if you're not a Seattleite, Norm's is a dog-friendly bar--every table has some sort of adorable cuddly fluffball hitched to a table leg).  I talked through my crazy decision with 2 more friends/dog lovers and began to let things start to sink in:  Penny was going to be my dog.

Here is the other stroke of fate that made all this occur: I had last week off of work.  Which meant, when I woke up without an alarm clock at 7:30 am, tossing and turning, unable to get Penny off my mind, I could go right down to the shelter and claim her.

After walking Lucy that morning, I was at the shelter by 9:30am (public adoption hours aren't until noon, but as a walker, I could finagle my way in early).  I filled out the paperwork, and all I had left to solidify the adoption was for Lucy and Penny to meet.

This made me nervous.  Lucy gets along with most dogs, but not all.  When I thought about the possibility of the meet and greet with them not working, I felt those same horrible shakes and heart pangs as the evening before.  But with the kindhearted assistance of Nadine, who met me at the shelter to help me out with the meet and greet, everything went smoothly.  After dropping Lucy back home and a very expensive trip to Petco, Penny and I were on our way home.

She wanted to climb in my lap the whole way home.  It
took all the strength I have in my piddly little right bicep
to keep her elbowed over into the passenger seat for the
10 minute drive.

It was when we finally pulled up in front of my apartment that it finally struck me.  This little lady belong to me.  Or I belonged to her.  Sometimes I'm not really sure which way the relationship goes with pets.  Let's just say we belonged to each other.

The minute I brought her inside, this happened:

That's Lucy's, "is this thing actually staying here?" look.
Penny wanted to play and play and play some more.

Despite the initial play session, Lucy and Penny are actually pretty mellow together.  They played a couple of times in the first few days and worked out who was in charge (thankfully, Penny is more than willing to let Lucy be the boss--otherwise this wouldn't have worked).  For the past couple of days, they've pretty much kept to themselves.

Except this happened.  Lucy is not a snuggler.  Penny is an
over-snuggler.  This lasted about 3 minutes.  There are a lot
of pictures.

There was also this:

Morning kisses!

And this fun Sunday morning snuggle that we all shared:

All in our new designated couch positions: Lucy in her usual spot, me in
my usual spot, and Penny on top of me.

In the near week that Penny has been with us, she has claimed the bed and the couch as the sole 2 places she resides when we're home.  And if I'm not watching, she turns them into the perfect little nests for herself.

This is what my bed looked like when I came home from work on Monday:

See that perfect little Penny-sized indentation in the
middle of my disheveled pillows?

She'll rearrange the couch to suit her fancy:

And I've been all but kicked out of my own spot on the couch:

Matching bundles of dog make my heart melt.

But getting used to rearranged sleeping preferences hasn't been the most difficult part of this past week.  Not that anything has been particularly difficult, but there have been some pretty interesting revelations.  And the biggest eye opener has had very little to do with Penny and her adjustment, and more to do with me and my adjustment.

What I've realized, and that I knew before but hadn't fully understood, is how much Lucy and I know each other.  I rescued Lucy when she was 3 months old from a shelter in Long Island, NY.  I brought her home just weeks before my first year of teaching.  I house-trained her, I leash-trained her, and I taught her how to sit, stay and come (although she's never been exceptional with "come").  

Lucy and I have been together for 7 and a half years and she knows me like no one else.  Lucy has been with me through 4 apartment moves (one of those moves across the country).  She's been with me through all my years of first graders.  She knows all my routines.  She can predict whether or not she gets to leave the house with me based on what pair of pants I put on.  She forced me to start running.  She's been with me through each half-ounce of a relationship I've had in the last few years.

And I know Lucy like no one else.  I know every facial expression.  I know what each whine and groan means.  I know on walks if it's a "pee sniff," a "poop sniff," or just a "sniff sniff."  I know all of her fears (mainly high-pitched beeping noises and fans).  I know when she's nervous, uneasy, scared, or completely relaxed.  I know what she needs at any moment of the day.

For 7.5 years, roommates (human and animal alike) have come and gone.  But it's always been me and Lucy.  Lucy and me.  And for the last 3 years, it really has been just the two of us.

But now, there's Penny.

Sweet, snuggly, wonderful Penny.

And here's what I find the most difficult thing right now: Penny and I don't know each other the way Lucy and I do.  When she randomly freezes midstride on walks and begins shaking, I don't know what she's afraid of.  I don't always know if she's happy or sad or excited or confused.  I don't know how much exercise she needs or what exactly she needs to feel comfortable.  I don't know if she trusts me fully yet.  Being 2 years old, and me being in the dark about her history (other than being adopted from the shelter 3 months ago and return because of landlord restrictions), I don't know how long it's going to take for her to realize that me and Lucy are a permanent home for her.

I don't know how long it's going to take for us to get to know each other.  But, in the week that we've known each other, I've learned enough about her that I think I've got a good start.  Here's what I know:

1)  She loves to snuggle.  She's a lovebug.  All she wants to do from the minute I walk in the door is be next to me or on top of me.  I don't have to be petting her, she just needs to be in contact with me.  If I'm busy around the apartment, she's alert to my every move until we're all settled.

2)  She's not interested in treats as motivation.  I've tried every kind of treat in the last week to get her interested in training.  Regular ones.  Super meaty ones.  I even went to the grocery store and bought fresh cut deli turkey yesterday to try to motivate her through a walk.  Not interested.  This will prove to be extremely problematic when it comes to training.  Luckily, she's old enough and knows enough that she doesn't require a lot of training.  For the things I want to perfect, I'm going to have to get creative with how to train.  But, somewhat confusingly, she gets really excited for meals and eats her food right away.  Go figure.

3)  I don't think she's ever been taken for long walks.  She's not really sure how to handle them.  There's some trepidation as we move further and further from the house.  I think in past homes she's either only been taken out for potty breaks or just had a yard.  We're working on this one.  Lucy helps.  My hope is that we'll get from long walks to running.

4)  She loves Lucy.  I think she was more excited to see that her new home had a dog than a person.  I think she'll keep whittling away at Lucy's tough anti-snuggling exterior.  At least I hope so.

5)  When she's happy, her whole body wiggles.  Like a worm.  It's unstoppable.  Not that anyone in the world would ever want to stop it.

And that's it.  Six days at home, and this is what I know about Penny.  I know there's so much more.  

I can't wait to figure it out.

My new family.