Home Alone

Not counting the fourteen days worth of interferon I've lovingly squirted into Leo's gums, he has his third official round of chemo this morning. Of course I'm worried that this will be the time they scan for metastasis and find it, and when I return an hour after I drop him off there will be no colorful bandage wrapped around his leg marking the spot where the chemicals would have been administered.

Yes, even though I watched him take the three steps to our deck the other day in one beautifully executed leap, and even though he gave my leg a few lusty humps yesterday when my friend stopped by to visit and emphatically snapped at Manny when he tried to intercede, and even though his appetite still has no bounds, I am worried. Even though he routinely wakes me twice a night with his obsessive need to visit the backyard, I don't want to even think about letting him go.

Mostly, however, given Leo's many empirical signs of perfectly good health for the time being, I am worried about how to slip out of the house to take him to the hospital without taking Manny with me. Shame on me for laughing at my friend the other day, who is concerned that when her dog goes to doggy boot camp for two weeks he will feel abandoned. That after two weeks of good old fashioned canine discipline and a complete absence of "people food," he will be distraught. "He's a dog," I assured her. "He's not giving this all that much thought."

Am I worried that Manny will likely poop in the house after Leo and I leave? Of course not; worrying about the inevitable is a waste of energy. Am I worried that he will sniff out some dirty underwear -- or, if necessary, pants -- and chew off the crotch? Of course not; same reason. I am worried about his psyche, his feelings of abandonment. Sure, he's a dog with a brain the size of a pea. But he's my dog.

Once a mother, always a mother I suppose. Some other woman's crying baby on an airplane will always inspire in me a slight sympathetic pang, but my crying babies on an airplane, well someone might as well have taken a sledgehammer to my heart. If I could have crawled into their aching ear canals and somehow eased the pain, I would have.

Yesterday, my friend and I cancelled coffee plans on each other, she because her son wanted to accompany her to the grocery store, me because my daughter wanted to spend the afternoon with me either watching reruns or wandering the mall. She could have wanted to sit with me waiting for buds to appear on the trees and I would have reneged on coffee. Our kids hold onto our souls with a grip so powerful we will drop everything for them; all they need to do is ask.

And, sometimes, our dogs. If I were a betting woman, I'd put money on Manny joining me and Leo for the ride to the hospital. Yes, it will make me late for my workout, but when it comes down to a choice between toning my glutes or nurturing Manny's psyche? No contest!