There is no usual in these times. The only person I know who said his life was not upended was my son-in-law Rick, who already worked in isolation from his Los Angeles garage — converted several years ago to his home office.
But then, in mid-March, my oldest grandchild came home from college, joining his high school sister and middle school brother in distance learning, and even Rick’s world turned upside down. My daughter said what she was most thankful for was that instead of three rowdy teen-agers, she didn’t have three toddlers at home.
But here in the Santa Ynez Valley, my husband and I had a completely different new normal. The house was way too quiet, at the same time the world and the news was way too upsetting. I vacillated between sitting on my porch looking gratefully at the hills and vineyards near our rural home and closing my eyes to images of ill-equipped hospital workers trying to save lives in the urban areas of America and the world.
Many of my friends have turned to gardening and I see why. But, I’ve never had that knack. Other friends are being scrupulous about exercise: joining online yoga or Pilates classes. Again, other than long walks, exercise is not what I voluntarily choose to do
I have always loved to read. A book or books has kept me company at every age and stage of my life. When we first began to quarantine, I thought happily how I was going to attack the pile of books on my nightstand. My near-constant refrain has been, “So many books, so little time.” I’ve got some wonderfully appealing books waiting for me on the nightstand as well as downloaded on my electronic reader.
However, for the first time in my life, I can’t seem to concentrate on books. I read a few pages, then get distracted by worrying thoughts of family, friends, local business owners who I know are struggling. I usually love fiction. Stories have kept me company since I was a child.
What’s happened?
Today I got a glimmer of why it’s so hard to read fiction. Our pandemic is so shocking and amazing and troubling and the stories coming from all corners of the earth are so inspiring and horrifying, that for the first time in my life, fiction pales next to this reality. Someday, there will be novels and plays and paintings to reflect the pandemic, but not now, not when we’re in the middle of this crisis.
However, 10 days ago, I found an answer to the quarantine: a new puppy.
About nine months ago, our 16-year old rescue poodle mix, Bella, died of an inoperable tumor. Bella was a dear companion to my husband, me, and our frisky dachshund Ramona. Easy-going, she allowed Ramona to tug on her ears, happily went on long or short walks, or stayed at home on lazy days. Bella never met a dog or person she didn’t like. Her death left a huge hole in our household.
My husband didn’t feel a need to replace her, though, saying our doxie was quite enough. But, I’d been quietly putting out feelers for a rescue — another smallish poodle mix. And in the midst of the pandemic, my friend Ann called me. Ann works tirelessly to find homes for dogs in shelters all across the area. She said that a carload of small dogs was being brought to a dog-rescue organization in Goleta called “Cold Noses Warm Hearts.” They were coming from a shelter in Barstow which was closing due to lack of funds. Two of the dogs were young poodle mixes, probably brother and sister. Ann sent a video of the dogs, one white, one black — both adorable.
We went down to Goleta to meet this little fellow, my husband somewhat reluctantly. The white poodle mix was already adopted by the time we arrived. But, there was the other: small, curly haired and coal black. I took the dog in my arms and he rested his head on my shoulder. At that point, you would have had to pry this pup out of my arms with the Jaws of Life. The rescue folks estimated he is less than one year. They said he was a stray, but someone had loved this little fellow. He seems to understand the outdoor toileting routine, he follows nicely on a leash, and he is a supreme cuddler.
So far, my reluctant husband is melting. And, our six-year-old dachshund, after ignoring the newcomer for the first few days, nestles with and even shares her toys with the little guy.
That left only one question. What do we call this fellow? The answer: Covie (NOT Covid). He’s the single best thing to come out of a time no one will ever forget.
Elayne Klasson, PhD in psychology, is a writer and recent transplant to the Valley. She was formerly on the faculty at San Jose State University. Her recent novel, Love is a Rebellious Bird, was released in November.