Dog days of college
Sometimes we do not fully recognize our feelings until they are brought out from our subconscious by talking to a Yorkshire Terrier.
As students, we've put a large part of our identity on the back burner, whether it's because we've physically moved away from home, or because we simply do not have the quality time we used to have to spend with our friends and families.
There comes a time in all of our lives when we may realize that we have overtly placed our education and dreams before our home life - which is, you know, only the foundation to our existence and everything.
This can be an important decision in that it helps us lead more independent lives, but for people like myself, it can also leave us feeling strangely guilt-ridden for just wanting to grow up.
This concept didn't hit me quite so hard as when I realized just how much I missed my dog, and more prominently, how much he missed my attention.
Dogs are quite outstanding creatures. To name a few of their attributes, they are completely objective (except maybe in the case of their showing unconditional love for you) and scarily therapeutic, and as long as you are providing for their basic physical and emotional needs, they have the potential to be the most loyal creatures you'll ever come across.
When I called home the other day to catch up with my parents, I received a pretty typical request, given it was from someone in my family. My dad was persisting that I say hi to Enzo, our family's notoriously zany Yorkie.
He proceeded to put the phone to my dog's ear, and I immediately retreated back to home mode, which entails speaking to my dog with a distinct fondness and high-pitched tone, as if he were a friend of mine who had just returned from a trip overseas.
"Hiii Enzo!" I said. My dad began laughing into the phone.
"What?" I asked, wondering why he was shocked to hear that I still talked to my dog.
"He's wagging his tail," he said.
It had practically broke my heart to hear that. Not as much as when I found out that when I first left for college, Enzo would wait by the door every night - but almost as bad.
"Dad, that is the most sad thing ever," I declared.
"Nah, he's fine," he assured me, as he did last time we had this conversation.
After I hung up, I felt pretty terrible.
This happens with people, too. Friends will bring up good memories, or you'll think about a certain place in your hometown that you wish you could go to at that very moment.
The best thing we can do in these instances is appreciate what we've been given, and pay our dues to those who have helped us get where we are.
Even if that means having an awkward phone conversation with your dog.
lifeline@cm-life.com
