BEAUTIFUL COMPANY

For as long as I can remember, I have always liked to have my alone time. To not be bothered for a period of  time, hours if I got so lucky was the one thing I would indulge in. This part of my behavior was much stronger when I was a student at the university. You could probably understand it if, at times, you feel overwhelmed when interacting with people, like I do. This doesn’t mean I don’t like social interactions or anything, I am socially awkward and all, but I do like spending time with friends, class mates back then and currently co- workers. I just need to feel like I can achieve inner peace for at least an hour a day, and this does not include the moment before I go to sleep, nor the hour or so spent showering, putting on an outfit, applying make-up, and stuff right before I leave the house in the mornings.

When my sister got married and moved out I had been looking forward to living alone, by myself, thus guaranteeing an ample relaxing alone time. I like being alone and I do not feel lonely at all.

But then again, this alone/ not lonely feeling is credited to one furry little friend of mine. His name is Passpartout. He is four years old and the most adorable schnauzer I had ever layed eyes on. Actually, he is the most adorable anything I have ever layed my eyes on. Four years ago when my sister and I decided we wanted a furry bundle of joy to make it our outlet for excessive loving, we went puppy shopping (I am ashamed to say that I have only recently been aware of the fact that adopting is better, but still can’t say I regret it), or so I thought. I told my sister we needed to shop around first before deciding on a four legged receiver of the best doggie toys, rawhide bones and crap to chew on that money can buy, because first of all, I wanted a female dog, and also we had to make sure it was one that would be easily accommodated to our house, being that it isn’t really large.

One Wednesday afternoon, my sister, her boyfriend (now, her husband) and myself walked in a pet shop, asked where the puppies were and the man in charge pointed to a display where there was this one lonely gray oversized dust bunny in a cage. His eyes were wide and looked at us as if he hadn’t seen something so amazing as us in a long time. Alas, it was a he. My sister knowing we should be looking for a female dog, was busy asking the clerk if they had others or something. Her boyfriend and I, on the other hand were busy petting the dog and making noises and trying to play with him through the wire of the cage. I couldn’t help but fall in love with those eyes of his that begged me to be his care-taker for life, and as soon as I was coming to this realization Al (I’ll call my sister’s husband Al), suddenly blurted in a goo goo voice “I will play so much with you!”. That was all it took for me, and I know I used that as a not so good excuse to leave the premises with that puppy in my hands, because right after that I interrupted my sister’s conversation with the guy at the desk by almost shouting to her “Pay the man! Al’s just made a promise to this puppy he just can’t break. Not when this cutie patootie has these beautiful eyes covered in those big bushy eye brows!”

So, we bought him. As soon as I knew he’d be ours I knew I wanted to name him Passpartout. And yes, I was told that dogs should have names with two syllables at most. Don’t care. He looks like Passpartout and he can carry the name quite well, might I add.

He instantly got accustomed to us and made our house his own playground. Three of my favorite shoes were also his favorite to chew on. Darn those expensive good- for- nothing- specially- designed- for- dogs- crap- chew toys! Still, I loved him unconditionally. If Cesar Millan were to read this post he’d be truly disappointed in my dog owner skills. I’ve been told more than once the following phrase “That dog has you controlled, not the other way around”, to which I respond “From day one, and I don’t feel less of a person by it”. Why should I feel bad about loving something that is so very easy to love?

Three years after we drove off from the pet shop with Passpartout totally relaxing in my lap, my sister got married and I got sole custody of our precious furry bundle. I love taking him out for a walk, even when he barks at every pedestrian/ cyclist/ motorcyclist we encounter on the ride to the park, and on the ride home. I actually made a game out of it. Certain types of people make more points if he barks at them. Once I urged him to bark at a man walking by and I swear my dog gave me a judgmental look. Love him, still.

I know I started this post by saying I love my alone time, but I guess I mean to say that I used to. Believe me, Passpartout is one to demand attention all day every day, and I can’t deny that to him, not to those beautiful wonderful eyes that look at me like I’m the cat’s pajamas, even if he hates cats. My “relaxing alone time” now consists of me, being greeted with much love as soon as I walk through the door, and showing my lovely pet how much I missed him back. It must be said, that is as relaxing and stress relieving as it gets (well, as far as free stress relievers go I mean, because I’ve heard of spas and massages and stuff that sound pretty amazing too). I guess that by chewing those three charming pairs of shoes that I so loved to wear out of the way, Passpartout made it possible for me to love him endlessly.