Jobless, Homeless, Carless, Bikeless, Dogless

So here’s a sappy post about how hard it is to leave my dog.  For those of you that know me, you’ll likely sympathize.  For those that don’t, you’ll probably find this post a bit maudlin.  Oh well.  Here ’tis:

This has been a month of divestiture.  All within the past few weeks, I had my last day at work; we moved out of our house, donated our car, sold our bicycles; and I brought my dog back to St. Louis so that my parents can watch her while we’re on our road trip.  While I’ve been excited to unburden myself of these first four, I’m having a little trouble coming to terms with the last.  I was ecstatic to leave my job behind me.  The predominant feeling with the apartment, car, and bikes was one of relief.  I have to admit that some part of me was hesitant to see those things go.  I’m attached to some of my stuff and have fond memories associated with all of those things.  But I’ve convinced myself that the things I loved the most about those things are things that I can take with me.

But I have no such comforts with leaving my puppy.  I can console myself with the fact that she’ll be much happier at my parents’ house.  No doubt, this separation will be much harder on us than it will be on her.  But the simple truth is that I’m leaving my dog for quite some time and I’ll miss her dearly.  I know this is pretty silly to people who don’t own dogs and probably to most people who do.  But Mousse has been a permanent fixture in my life for a few years and Zoe and I treat her like she’s our child.  I missed her when I went to work.  Two years is going to be a stretch.

With the upcoming austerity of our Peace Corps service, it’s tempting to prepare by scaling down our lives beforehand.  But many Peace Corps resources counsel us to live it up before we leave.  Eat all the fried food we want to.  Watch all the trashy TV that we want to.  And so it is with Mousse.  I’m spending my last night with her as I’ve spent many nights before.  She’s sleeping on my lap as I write this.  I’ll cherish her until I leave.  Tomorrow, I’ll get on my plane, bite my lip, and try to find a good euphemism for abandonment.