New Page 1

WHIMSY MAY BE
WAITING IN THE WINGS

A Widow Bit – April 20, 2008

By Mary Koch

As usual, I was late getting away for my every-other-week, 250-mile drive to visit Mother. Finally, racing out the door, computer case and handbag over opposite shoulders, suitcase in one hand, I knelt to give Sadie a goodbye pat and scratch with my remaining hand.

That’s when I discovered she had a couple cockleburs snarled in her fur. I sighed, set down the bags and took time to remove the invaders. I simply could not leave them for the dogsitter to deal with.

Cockleburs are nasty. They curl themselves deeply into the finest hair next to the skin, so that all you can do is pull the hair away, strand by strand, continuously pricking your fingers to avoid injuring or startling the dog. It is a thankless job. Sadie objects throughout and when you’re finally done, shakes herself as if to say, “Why would you want to put me through THAT?”

“Well,” I answered. “You could at least come up with an entertaining column about this. I can’t think of anything to write, and you haven’t written since John died.”

She did not oblige. Sadie’s silence continues, perhaps to readers’ regrets. The occasional “Journal of Healing” columns attributed to “Sadie, the People Dog,” were well received over the years. In fact “hers” inevitably drew more responses than my own.

“I read your column every week,” readers would say, “but I especially like it when Sadie writes.”

I was never certain whether to feel complimented or a little jealous of my alter ego—disguised as an 11-year-old, three-legged springer spaniel.

Could it be that my alter ego cannot produce because Sadie herself has changed since John died? Her voracious appetite is the same, but she’s subdued, sleeps a lot and, when she does happen to wake up, follows me—doggedly, you might say—from room to room.

I attribute this to age plus the dramatic lifestyle change in our home. We no longer have the continual comings-and-goings of people to keep her stimulated.

But here’s the whacko thing. When I couldn’t come up with a “Sadie-produced” column this week, I actually did some Internet research on canine grief and mourning. I was scrolling through pet advice web sites, pretending that it was about the dog, not about me.

Where, oh where, has my little alter ego gone?

Author James Hillman in his latest book, “The Force of Character,” likens each of our psyches to a “boardinghouse full of characters,” some acceptable and lovable, some not so much. Jungian psychologists, he says, define maturity as an integration of all those characters.

Hillman does not necessarily favor the idea of an integrated character, especially in the elderly. He says life requires all those characters to be “onstage at the end of the opera” in some kind of riotous, uncoordinated bow.

Perhaps the drama diva is demanding center stage in my psyche right now, but it’s not the end of the opera. Surely there’ll be room for a whimsical alter ego in a future act.

Return to Home Page