Misadventures in the Dark

 

 

 

 

 

I made a mistake last Sunday. I received fair warning. I was told, in explicit detail, to avoid watching the movie, Marley & Me. My love for animals is no secret and this movie stung a bit. Okay, stung a lot. Few movies have saddened me to the point of tears.  Castaway, Pay it Forward, Patch Adams, Forrest Gump, Life is Beautiful and My Life as a House are among the few. You can be warned, you can be fully aware of the ending, but you cannot escape the waterfall of tears if you chose to make the same mistake.

 

My dog Rusty has been a huge part of my life, a giant part of my family, since I was nineteen. I’ve loved and cared for him a long time. He’s nearly entirely blind due to his cataracts, he moves much slower, and his once reddish hair has begun to gray. I know he, like every living thing, will not live forever. I know this fact, and yet, I cannot bear the thought. Marley & Me forced me to the future and I felt immediate heartbreak. I still do.  I sat between Steven (who had already watched it once, glutton) and Audrey while crying, no sobbing, to the point of embarrassment. I cried until I was out tears. I cried enough to leave proof of crying, in the form of swollen and puffy circles under my eyes the next morning.

 

I have trouble watching the ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLachlan, I struggle inside the Arkansas Humane Society, and I get a little weepy on kickball Sunday’s because the Little Rock Animal Shelter can be seen when I drive into Interstate Park. Clearly, others share my opinion. Larry Betz, Founder of the Little Rock Kickball Association, and better known to fellow kickballers as “Poo”  started the LRKA in memorial of friends he lost. The LRKA is one part fun and one part charity. This spring, our charity event benefits the animals. We (each LRKA team) will be donating food, toys, treats, flea treatment, bedding, etc. to the needy dogs, cats, puppies and kittens at the Little Rock Animal Shelter. All items will be taken to Interstate Park this Sunday, April 19^th. If you would like to reach out and help, but can’t bring yourself to walk through the door of the shelter like myself, I encourage you to come by this Sunday. Poo will be at the park between noon and 7pm. You can’t miss him. He cruises around via golf cart. Otherwise, monetary or aforementioned donations can be mailed to:

 

LRKA

c/o Larry Betz

1904 Berry Place Drive

Conway, Arkansas 72032

 

Each donation offers more time to an animal. More time to be adopted. Time is priceless.

 

Additionally, Scotty Adams, a kickballers for 10+ seasons, has organized “Craws for Paws,” benefitting the Humane Society for Pulaski County. The event will be held on Friday, April 24^th in the Rivermarket Paviliion from 7pm until midnight. Tickets can be purchased for $25 in advance or for $30 at the door. One ticket gets you unlimited crawfish, fixins, unlimited beer, live music, and a great time shared by other animal lovers, for a great cause.  For tickets:

 

www.CrawsforPaws.com or call

501.690.6909 for more information.

 

Animals love unconditionally. They offer forgiveness without question. They sense our happiness, our sadness. If I could rescue every animal on death row, every animal in an abusive situation, every animal in need of a home…

 

…I WOULD.

 

Last Thursday evening, I stayed up ridiculously late with Steven. It isn’t uncommon for us to stay up watching movies or talking as we are both nocturnal, however, this particular night, we were awake later, or earlier, depending on how you want to look at it, than normal. Steven mentioned coming by Friday morning to insure I would be awake on time. I assured him it was unnecessary but he insisted. When we’ve stayed up far too late in the past, he’s made mention of this same gesture, though he has never followed through so I assumed this case would be the same.

 

I live with my sister Audrey, nearly 21 years old and my friend Kelly, ten years Audrey’s senior. The three of us have varied schedules. Audrey works during the evening, while Kelly leaves an hour before I awake. I make mention of this because Kelly and I make concerted effort not to rouse Audrey from slumber in the am hours. While I am able to sleep through considerable noise, Audrey is awakened by the slightest of sound.

 

I awoke Friday morning, groggy and tired after only a handful of hours of sleep. I entered my shower, as I do every morning, half asleep. My bathroom is attached to my bedroom and when both the bedroom and bathroom doors are shut, little can be heard on the other side of the doors. While rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I open my eyes to discover the 6 foot tall silhouette of a man through the frosted glass shower door. Initially paralyzed, I released a blood curdling, guttural yell which even alarmed and frightened Steven, the man behind the blurry shadow. Startled and exhausted, Steven stated through laughter, “I told you I was going to wake you up. Wow! Your scream scared me! Who else could it have been?! You had to have known it was me!” Obviously, I did not upon initially discovering the creepy “Norman Bates” like figure in my bathroom. I still owe him one for the near heart attack.

 

Oddly, Audrey did not hear a thing. I am not sure which is more unnerving, the incident itself or Audrey’s oblivion. She normally hears a pin drop, a feather fall, but she didn’t hear the sound of my voice at its highest pitch. Eek.

 

I can recall times in the past when I showered with one eye open, periodically pulling back the shower curtain to confirm I was the only one present. Perhaps my psyche has been tainted by too many scary movies, or maybe I opted to weigh on the side of caution. More perplexing, the “Psycho” shower scene has never been thought of in my current residence. I attribute this to the absence of a shower curtain. This is further proof worry and fear are often needless, but I’ll probably still lock my bathroom door. As a child, I always wondered if Jaws was going to appear in the swimming pool (I really did,) so perhaps I should also swim with my eyes open. I can just see Steven, swimming in the pool, shark fin atop his head. Duh-nah-duh-nah-duh-nah...Gosh, I'm probably giving him ideas. Maybe I should tell him I'm afraid of the Cinderella story. A girl can never have too many glass slippers.

My mother once said, “Be a fountain, not a drain,” a phrase surely quoted before her though I cannot state by whom. She forgot to elaborate on what you should put out there. What you give flows like a circular stream, eventually it will find you again. I believe in karma and fully feel we get back what we give. I find there is truth to the principle “mind over matter.” If you expect the worst, the worst will often greet you and vice versa.

 

I’m not a bowl of cherries and sunshine. And sure, I have my bad days, but I don’t sauté in the bad with great frequency or regularity. I think there is a difference between being and thinking positively versus having a cheerful demeanor at all times. It’s easy to dwell in the negative. There will always be full moons with the capability to incite fights, but a full moon is not present every evening. Everyone can think of others who have it better, others who have it worse. Anyone can conjure old childhood memories or that which inspires anger, fear, sadness, bitterness. All of which is neither unique or worthy of reveling in to a point where present or future happiness is prevented. Those incapable of embracing the good, blessings, the ability to bite their tongue generally will receive limited sympathy from me. As a result, I find I surround myself with others who share this opinion.

As a young girl, I would fanaticize of romantic getaways, travel, with a male partner. I vividly recall inventing an entire excursion in my thoughts prior to sleep. If an actual date was planned, each detail would play inside my head like a movie. Often times, I would grow so consumed with anticipation, I would look forward to the evening time, the time in which I was able to design the future date while marking through another calendar date. Of course, anticipation breeds expectation. Sometimes the actual date would prove to be less spectacular than imagined. As an adult, “real” life moves at a much faster pace and somewhere along the line, I began neglecting my imagination all together. Still, the anticipation remains.

 

In early March, Steven invited me to go to Orange Beach with him and another couple. Elated, I accepted. Within hours, he called to “Indian-give” his offer while replacing it with a better invitation, “I can’t go to Orange Beach due to prior obligation, but now I am thinking about the beach and I’d like to go at a different time. You?” I said, “Sure. When and with whom (like I cared?)” Then he made my day, “Three weeks? Just us?” The following day, we reserved a condo in Destin, Florida.

 

The anticipation immediately kicked in. The notion of the beach, him, a week without work, the beach, him entered and the countdown began. Steven and I had lunch together the day before we planned on leaving and I said, “I wish we were leaving tonight instead.” He agreed and so, we decided to leave later that evening.