I could hear it happening from the other room.
He got out of bed…well, shall I say jumped out of bed and headed for the door.
Typically, he’s not this spry at 5 AM.
He’s used to me waking around 4:30, making a pot of coffee and trying hard not to disturb his sleep. I turn on a small lamp and begin to write.
This thing we do–it’s a daily ritual.
As I begin to write, he snuggles closer, almost burrowing into the side of me. He can’t get close enough, and I just love his warmth next to me.
But today is different. After I sleepily crawl back into bed to pull out my pen and begin to connect with myself and my higher power, he jumped out of bed.
I can hear him. I love listening to what he’s doing. His moves have recognizeable sounds associated with them.
He goes into the other room, and I know he’s headed for the bathroom.
And then I hear it. The two flaps open of the door–the doggie door. It sounds as if he stuck his head out and retreated. Yep! He retreated all right.
He stuck his adorable head outside only to realize it’s raining…actually pouring!
And so…he trots back to bed, jumps up and snuggles in close to me.
Relieving himself can wait. I swear this guy can hold it longer than anyone or anything I have ever seen.
One of my neighbors picks him up every day for the beach. Yesterday it was sprinkling a bit. I received this text from my neighbor, “I’m headed to the beach. Stitch didn’t like the rain much last time. Do you want him to go?”
My little French bulldog, Stitch, is so good at setting boundaries. He knows what he likes and what he doesn’t like.
He absolutely adores the beach but apparently rain trumps long stretches of sand and crashing waves.
I just love the visual of his little head popping out the doggie door for just one second only to realize… I don’t like being wet. I think I will wait.
It sounds simple. But as I make my way in recovery, I am learning more and more to listen to my heart and my intuition. It’s becoming easier to discern things.
Whether it’s raining outside or raining inside my head, I can simply choose to retreat and be a witness to what’s happening. I don’t have to get wet.
I like witnessing what goes on in my head. It’s wacky, destructive, enlightening, bewildering, and on and on. But it’s just thoughts. And I can change those thoughts in a myriad of ways.
Stitch is such a teacher for me. When we’re unsure, it’s okay to retreat, regroup and snuggle in. The answers will come.