Block 878: December 19, 2015

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Thank goodness for a Saturday with little to do.

Date: December 19, 2015

Crane: 878

Days Spent on Project: 1032

Location: NW Portland, OR

Person I would have sent it to: TBD

Music I listened to while sewing: HAMILTON… from the start and through the beginning and then… again!

Spent the entirety of my morning inadvertently practicing my take on the Schuyler Sisters. My neighbors love me!

Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: Six years ago, my parents and I drove through the remains of a blizzard, through western Virginia and then into Tennessee, so that I could adopt The Dog. The entire drive… so many hours spent pushing through snow piles and icy roads… and I kept telling myself- “You know, if it doesn’t feel right, you don’t have to adopt it. No one will make you do this if it’s not right.”

It was so right.

Seeing that tiny (but still 15 pounds!) French Bulldog, looking totally bewildered and confused by what was happening, I stopped questioning what I was doing. Before I could hand a check to the breeder, she said I should take him for a walk- to make sure, I guess.

The Dog and I slipped around in the snow and the ice, and that was that.

Just like that, I owned my Own Dog.

And now, today, he’s snoring in one of his beds, wrapped in a wool Pendleton blanket a few feet away from me. He’s gone from a Frenchie who lived in the hills of Tennessee, to owning a neighborhood in Richmond, Virginia to the Upper East Side of New York where he owned Central Park daily for almost three years, after which he moved to Washington Heights, where he owned Fort Tryon’s dog park. He’s been to New Jersey a few times. He’s been to Yale. He’s been backstage and in the audience of several theaters during tech rehearsals and performances. (I love that he used to wander The Public Theater without question, and was almost put in a show at the Yale Repertory Theater because the director liked his energy. He’s flown- first class, of course- across the country from JFK and walked on the infamously famous Portland Airport carpet. He goes to work with me; I carry him most of the mile walk now, and several people in the neighborhood know me as The Guy Who Carries His Dog Everywhere. He’s a welcome part of the theater, and for that I’m thankful (he’s even going to the Company Holiday Party on Monday).

I’m so glad I didn’t listen to my fears and doubts on the drive to Tennessee six years ago. I’m so glad I just jumped right into those big eyes of his when I first saw him then. He’s been one of the best decisions of my adult life, definitely.

Love him.

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